


Over The Hills And Far Away

by Dean-Bangs-Cas-In-The-Impala (Maknatuna)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Dark Ages, Dominant/Top Dean, Drama, Fluff, Humor, Lords, M/M, Romance, Submissive/Bottom Castiel, Vikings, battles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-11-20 22:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 41,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/590582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maknatuna/pseuds/Dean-Bangs-Cas-In-The-Impala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it possible to fall in love with your enemy?  A young and furious warrior Dean never would have thought that he’d fall for a blue-eyed stranger, until their first meeting changed everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you goes to bethanyyerinn for doing the beta reading job. Also, thank you Phoenix xxxxx and Evanna Adams for your help. Also, thank you goes to Marple Juice for suggesting to use Sami's name.
> 
> The drawings are done by my friend Nino Zukhbaia. Thank you, dear, they're amazing!
> 
> Special note: The story may seem little bit rushed in the beginning. I never thought I'd write so many chapters. I was aiming for 5-6 chapters. So that's the main reason. But it gets better and I think and really hope that you will like it :) Thank you very much!

 

                                                                               

In April, year 998, the dragon-headed Drakkar, with 120 furious warriors led by Dean the Berserk, landed at the Isle of Wight. Due to a terrible storm, the ship had gone off course and they ended up at this island.

The Berserk jumped off the ship and stomped through the water. Cold, spring wind blew his long, blond hair around his face. Dean held his sword tight, wiping the splashes of sea water off his forehead with his free hand as the warriors followed their chieftain.

The Vikings made their way up the beach, cautiously checking every direction for possible enemies. The quick scouting revealed that there were none and as the night slowly approached and the earth sank into twilight, they built a bonfire from gathered branches, cones, and moss and settled around it and took out the ale. What else was there to do except drink? So that's what they did.

Time passed slowly. Fire cracked merrily, warriors drank ale, joking and laughing. Dean raised a toast: "May Odin, Thor, and the Norns be our guides to victory 'til we all meet in Valhalla!" With this Dean emptied his horn.

The warriors roared whole-heartedly in agreement and drank with their chieftain. Soon the alcohol took over and traditional Viking style feasting went on until late. Laughter, belching, dirty jokes, and snoring mingled in the night air.

Dean realized that if he drank even a single drop more of ale he would be wasted. He tried to stand up and walk off the drink, but instead he fell flat on his face. Dean shook his head, trying to sober up, and tried again. He drove his sword into the ground and grabbed the hilt. It took almost all of his strength to get up, but after some sweating and panting he finally managed to.

"I….Imm gna take a wlk…." He croaked and frowned at his warriors with a hazed look. "And dnt trr…rrraah to follow me, or I'll ssnnd ya to Helheim!" Dean added with a snarl.

The Vikings had witnessed his rage before, so no one argued—not to mention half of them weren't listening or couldn't understand him. Dean the Berserk staggered along the beach, holding his dearest sword and yelling some dirty, old song at the top of his lungs. Despite the fact that he fell down four times and almost broke his neck twice, Dean the Berserk was in an excellent mood and continued hollering his song. He did not realize that he had gone too far from his camp.

Suddenly he stopped to listen. There was a strange, inexplicable noise. Dean peered through the darkness, but couldn't see anything. He decided to get a closer look at where this odd noise was pouring from.

At first he thought he was looking at a dead bear, because it looked just as heavy and appeared to be covered with dark fur. But after a few seconds, Dean heard the noise, a gods-awful drunken snore—the worst he had ever heard in his life. Then things became clear to his foggy brain. Bears don't drink ale, so this must be a man. A drunken Anglo-Saxon warrior dressed in bear skin, to be precise. Looking closely, he saw that the man was lying on his stomach and that a long, heavy sword lay close to his right hand.

Dean tried to decide what to do. He did not want to attack the sleeping man because, of course, he was a Viking, a wild and fearsome warrior, yet he still liked a fair fight. So instead, he kicked the sleeper.

"Get up, you coward, and fight like a man!" he yelled at him.

The stranger just snorted slightly and mumbled: "I wish these God damn rats would leave me alone."

Dean lost his temper when the man called him a rat. "You're the dirty rodent! I will tear you into pieces!" Dean yelled into the stranger's ear.

It was enough and the sleeping man jumped instantaneously to his feet. The bear skin fell to the ground and revealed a very handsome face. Dark brown curls fell to the man's shoulders and his blue eyes flashed with anger.

"Who the hell are you?" the deep voice barked at Dean.

Dean pierced his rival with a studying gaze. "My name is Dean the Berserk and from this moment on, you are my captive!" he announced unceremoniously.

The man bent his head back and laughed. "I'm your captive? I don't care if you are Dean the Berserk or Dean the Simpleton. I am Lord Castiel and there is not even a small chance that you could capture me." Castiel laughed and showed Dean his perfect white teeth.

The Viking chuckled. "So, you would prefer to die? That is fine with me. Take your sword and fight me if you can, but you are just another weak, shitty, useless Anglo-Saxon son of a bitch."

"Don't mess with me, you stinking Barbarian," Castiel hissed, narrowing his eyes. "I'll smash your skull on these rocks," he continued in a dangerously calm voice.

Now it was Dean's turn to laugh. "You amuse me. It is a pity you are going to die. I will impale your head on my sword so everybody may see what a true jester is."

"We will see about that," Castiel huffed and held his sword tightly. "I'm ready. Are you ready, milady?" he asked ironically.

The Viking looked at him in slight surprise. The sword which Castiel was holding was very hefty and Dean wondered how such a lean, slender man could manage to hold it. Dean could have easily lifted it, but he was slightly taller and a lot more muscular than Castiel.

"Go on, ladies first." Castiel grinned at Dean. The Viking was getting annoyed with this stupid insulting business and lunged quickly at the Anglo-Saxon. Castiel easily parried his attack and in turn brought his own sword up in three quick strikes at the Viking. Dean managed to block them. In an instant he attacked Castiel with raw, furious rage.

Castiel, as Dean found out, was a very experienced and skilled warrior, being able to resist for so long. By this time, every enemy Dean had ever fought before would be dead. But not Castiel. The Viking was really rather amazed about this.

Quite a long time passed, but neither of them intended to stop. After Dean brushed away a few more of Castiel's strikes, he knew that he was getting tired and the sweat was burning his eyes; the ale was surely to blame for this. Suddenly he brought down another blow, one with terrible force at Castiel, and the Saxon's sword fell out of his hand. Dean instantly kicked it and the sword disappeared into the bushes.

Castiel stood there amazed, with wide eyes, open-mouthed, his breath coming out in short gasps. Dean gazed at him in awe; tired, sweaty, and panting, Castiel was a beautiful sight. The Viking felt a lump in his throat and barely managed to swallow. He felt tell-tale tingling sensations in his groin. Dean shook his head and pointed his sword tip against Castiel's throat. "I will send you to Helheim, pretty face." He laughed.

Castiel bit his lip and feverishly sought for a solution. Then an idea struck him. He fell down to his knees in front of Dean.

"Please, Dean. I beg for forgiveness. Be merciful. Let me live and I will do whatever you please." Castiel's voice trembled and he sobbed. Dean could see the tears streaming down his face. The Viking could not believe his eyes.

"Odin our father, I cannot believe my own eyes. Am I dreaming? Or is it the ale?" Dean threw his head back and laughed, which was a big mistake. Castiel jumped to his feet and grabbed Dean's fist. The Viking abruptly stopped laughing and clutched Castiel's hair brutally, making the Saxon cry out in pain. But somehow, Castiel managed to bite Dean's arm, causing the Viking to roar like a wounded beast, and he hit Castiel in the face with the flat of his right hand. The last thing Castiel saw were bright, dancing stars in front of his eyes, before he fell into Dean's hands.

"Ha, this little ferret really thought he was stronger than me?" Dean laid the unconscious body on the ground and dropped his sword. "I will not kill you. I might have other plans for you." He smirked at Castiel and seemed to want to add something else, but instead he swayed, fell backwards, and hit his head against a rock. The Viking passed out instantly. A few minutes passed and Dean started to snore.

And in the cold April night there were two bodies lying under the pale moonlight; two rivals, enemies; and yet, they were sleeping side by side.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Something woke Dean. The sound of thunder? No, it was much too close. Instinctively he grabbed for his sword, wiping the sleep from his eyes and stumbling to his feet, his head pounding from all the ale. He stood there searching for the source of the rhythmic noise.

"What kind of a beast could make such a noise?" he muttered under his breath. The Viking looked down at Castiel, wondering whether or not he should wake the sleeping Saxon.

"No, I will not," Dean thought. "Let whatever beast that roams these parts take him instead of me."

Then he gazed at Castiel a bit longer. "Hmm, nice ass," he murmured.

Dean looked around, his eyes straining in the dim light. His worries left him for a moment when he saw nothing; He slowly lifted his sword and placed the tip under Castiel's shirt. He gently lifted it, peeking like a small boy.

The thundering noise came again and, startled, Dean backed away. "Whatever demon is hiding out here, I cannot let such a lovely ass be sacrificed," he spoke quietly into the dark.

Not wanting to scare Castiel, he slowly bent down to wake him. Castiel's long dark-brown curls covered his face, moving gently with his breathing.

Dean softly placed his hand on his shoulder and the thunder came from Castiel. The Viking fell backwards onto the rocks with a surprised yelp. The Saxon scrambled around, lunging with open hands at the source of the noise.

"Get off of me, wench!" Dean shouted at him.

Castiel released his grip from his neck. "Why did you scream so?" he frowned at Dean. "Are you a woman?"

The Viking gulped. "I fell, I was shocked," he replied, embarrassed.

"And what scared you?" Castiel asked mockingly.

"A noise, a deep thundering sound like it came from the beast of Helheim, the noise which shook the earth on which we stand."

A small amount of fear and nervousness crept into Castiel's eyes. "What would this fearful creature be?" he asked and looked around.

Dean began to laugh. "It was you! You snore like a pig!"

"No, I do not!" Castiel protested indignantly.

Dean was laughing so much that he couldn't speak, tears rolling down his face. "Snoring piglet!" He roared again with laughter.

"Shut up!" Castiel snarled and kicked him in the stomach. Dean fell over, clutching his sides.

"Piggy pig!" he laughed again as Castiel kept kicking him. The Viking rolled down the beach, still laughing. With one last kick, Dean fell into the water. The freezing cold trapped the scream in his throat as his eyes went wide just in time for a wave to crash over him, filling his mouth with seawater.

Spluttering, he pulled himself to his knees as a small fish fell from his mouth. Now it was Castiel's turn to laugh. His deep, pleasant laughter filled the night air.

Dean scrambled out of the water on his hands and knees. "Fool, what are you laughing at?" he yelled.

Castiel simply looked at him with a wide grin and added: "I will build a fire and you get out of those wet clothes."

Dean sat there in his fur pants beside the fire with the rest of his clothes draped over the rocks, drying slowly. Castiel sat beside him. They watched the flames in silence. Dean shivered and Castiel looked at him with sympathy.

"You'll freeze to death sitting like that." Castiel added some branches to the fire. "Here, take this." Castiel took his fur cloak from the ground and handed it to Dean, who wrapped it around his broad shoulders.

"Thanks," the Viking grunted.

"Why did you want to take me captive?" Castiel asked.

"I am Dean the Berserk and I can take any captives I choose. I chose you, because you might make a good pet," Dean announced proudly, despite his poor condition.

"I am not a pet and I do not wish to leave my land." Castiel objected angrily.

"We shall see about that," the Viking replied with a sly smile. "Where is your home?" he asked Castiel.

"Many miles away from here."

"Why are you here then?"

"You ask too many questions, Viking."

Dean stood up and dropped the cloak to the ground, turning his back on the fire. It was a lot better this way—he could feel warmth spreading all over his body and, with a satisfied sigh, he closed his eyes.

Soon after, the Viking sniffed the air. He could smell something. It was not burning wood. What was it then? The heat intensified on his ass. It was the fur that was burning.

"I'm on fire!" he yelled desperately, dancing around. "Put it out!"

Castiel stood up. "Take them off," he said calmly.

"What?!"

"Take them off, you idiot," the Saxon growled.

"I am not an idiot and no, I will not take them off!" came the panicked response.

"As you wish. In few minutes you will be a cremated Viking," Castiel responded monotonously.

"I can't die, yet! It's too early for me!" Dean was flailing miserably.

Castiel sighed and walked over to him. He firmly placed his hands on his shoulders, put one leg behind Dean's, and pushed him backwards, into the sand. The Viking fell to the ground and Castiel jumped on top of him, rolling them over and over, finally finishing with himself lying on top of Dean. Dean's eyes moved from side to side; he felt cooler now. The fire was extinguished now and he could feel damp sand against his skin.

"Thank you," the Viking muttered and looked into Castiel's blue eyes, feeling the familiar sensation in his groin. Castiel felt it too and his face turned red.

The Viking felt his invader instincts kick in. All he wanted was to grab this handsome stranger and take him forcefully. Dean's breath caught in his throat and he snaked one arm around Castiel's waist. With the other hand he cupped his cheek and brought Castiel's face closer.

The Saxon did not have enough time to react when the Viking crashed their lips together in a quick, wet kiss. Castiel gasped and tried to break free, but Dean's another hand held him firmly in place.

"Let me go!" The Saxon floundered and tried to move away from the Viking.

"Hmm, you taste good." Dean licked his lips after they broke apart and moved the Saxon aside.

Castiel glared daggers at the Viking and kept silent for a while. "You better go back to your people. Many men will be here at dawn. You might be in danger," he finally said, breaking the tense silence. He sounded more relaxed now.

Dean thought about it. His men were drunk and sleeping. If Castiel's men found them, no one would survive.

"I must warn my men," Dean said, standing up.

"I will come with you," Castiel said suddenly.

"No," Dean snapped.

"A small group of my men are already on the beach. They might harm you. At least when they see me, it will give you some protection."

The Viking chuckled, grin widening. "You know, I already like you."

"Sure, you do," Castiel snorted, but Dean did not hear any angry notes in his voice.

"Now, where the hell did you throw my sword to?" Castiel looked around and moved towards the bushes, where he found it after a few minutes of searching. "Alright, let's go then."

Together the two men slowly made their way towards the Viking camp.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun was rising into the sky as the two men made their way towards Dean's camp, casting its first rays upon the earth's surface.

"So, you no longer want to kill me, huh?" Castiel looked at the Viking with a smile dancing on his lips.

"No, I changed my mind. But you still will be my captive." The Viking examined him, looking up and down Castiel's body, subconsciously licking his lips.

"I don't think your plan will work." Castiel's laughter made Dean twitch.

Suddenly Dean stopped and listened. "Did you hear that?" he asked, grabbing his sword tightly.

"Yes, I heard it." Castiel cautiously looked around.

Forty warriors arrived on the beach before them, led by a knight on a black steed. Sand and dust from their many hooves rose into the air like a whirlwind.

"Ooh, how nice to see you, Castiel," a man in black armor and a scarlet cloak called. He was in his mid-fifties with an ugly scar on his face.

"Alastair." Castiel's tense voice sounded ominous to Dean.

"Who is this man?" Dean looked from Castiel to Alastair and his men, confused.

"This is my rival, Lord Alastair of the house of Atherton." Castiel's eyes never left Alastair's, as if trying to stare him down.

"I see you have a new toy, Castiel? This stinking barbarian?" Alastair laughed dryly.

"I am not a toy, you Saxon bastard! My name is Dean the Berserk!" The Viking growled and stepped forward, wielding his sword.

"Dean, wait!" Castiel exclaimed and grabbed for Dean's shoulder.

The Viking hesitated for a moment. He was fuming with rage, but Castiel's hand on his shoulder had an unexpected relaxing effect and he gave in.

"What do you want, Alastair? Why are you here?" Castiel demanded, glaring at the enemy. Alastair held the horse's reins and leaned forward.

"We have killed all of your men, the ones who were lurking in this area. I burned your house and killed your warriors and slaughtered your servants. Only ruins and ashes will await you when you return.  _If_  you return, that is," the man whispered, grinning triumphantly.

Castiel reeled and would have fallen if Dean had not caught his arm.

"You're lying," Castiel hissed.

"Sorry, my boy, but I'm not. Revenge is a bitch. I assume your father never thought that his son would lose everything quite so quickly." Alastair straightened and patted his horse's neck.

"You are traitors. You betrayed King Ethelred. You vowed to be faithful to him, but you broke your oath and rebelled against him. My father was faithful to the king and did what he had to do. He punished rebellions!" Castiel yelled and lunged forward to drag Alastair off the horse.

"Get them! Alive," Alastair shouted and snapped a whip. Forty men surrounded Dean and Castiel.

"This should be entertaining," the Viking whistled and held his sword at the ready.

Castiel turned so he was back-to-back with Dean, his own sword raised. "You are a strange man, do you know that?"

"What? I love a good fight. All Vikings do," Dean shrugged.

Castiel did not reply; he just looked back at the horsemen. One of them lunged at him with a mighty cry, but Castiel ducked and cut off the man's head with his own strike.

"Good one. You're becoming a less of a lady." Dean smirked at him and plunged his sword into a rival's chest.

"Kiss. My. Ass!" Castiel snarled at the Viking, punctuating each word with a swing of his sword.

"Yeah, maybe later," Dean smirked at him.

The fighting went on for quite a long time. The Viking fought with fury and enormous force, while Castiel was quicker and much more flexible. They made an excellent pair. They fought in confluence and one by one the horsemen's numbers lessened.

"Idiots! You cannot defeat two warriors?" Alastair's roar shook the air. "Get them or I will skin you all alive!"

"You know, I must admit, we make a good pair," Castiel said over his shoulder at Dean, who had just sliced a man in half.

"I knew you would succumb to my charms." The Viking grinned at him sheepishly.

"You can only dream about that," Castiel snorted in reply. "Are you always…" He didn't get the chance to finish as an arbalest hissed and a thick arrow tore through his shoulder muscles. Castiel shouted out in pain and grabbed the arrow, trying to pull it out. Immediately, two more plunged into his left thigh and torso, just under the ribcage.

"Hey, Cas, are you alright?" Dean turned around to look at Castiel, only to find him on his knees, gasping for air with his face contorted in pain.

"Hold on, we'll get through this!" the Viking yelled frantically as he sent two more warriors to the other world. "Don't you dare to die on me!" His gaze fell on Castiel, who was already lying unconscious on the ground with blood drying on his lips.

"Come on, you sons of bitches, show me what you're cap…" Dean shouted before something heavy hit him hard on the head. He fell beside Castiel.

"Drape these two over the horses and take them to my homestead," Alastair ordered and galloped his horse away.

* * *

The Vikings searched everywhere, but could not find their chieftain. He had disappeared; it was almost as if the earth had opened up and swallowed him. After several unsuccessful searches, they decided to ask their sorcerer for help.

An old man with one eye and long grey hair set his bowl upon the sand, putting some dry herbs in it and pouring a red substance over them, which almost looked like blood in the bowl. He howled a spell in an ancient language and stared into the liquid. "Our chieftain is captured," his voice rasped.

"Who caught him and where is he?" asked the Viking named Sami the Bloody Axe, Dean's best friend and aid.

"The men with a bear on their flag. He is in grave danger. You must find him quickly. I see blood, so he may be mortally wounded," the sorcerer replied.

"Where do we find him?" asked another Viking.

"Traverse over the hills and through the forest," the sorcerer answered.

Sami looked at the Vikings. "Sons of Odin, we vowed that we would follow our leader until our deaths and beyond. So it is time to show just how faithful we are to him! Get ready, we are leaving soon."

The Vikings roared in agreement and clashed their weapons against their shields.

Sami turned to the sorcerer, who was looking at the sea thoughtfully. "Ulvhat, thank you for your help. Can you do one more thing for us?"

"Certainly, if I am able," the old man replied, his gaze not moving from the sea.

"Is it possible to put a spell or charm upon our ship so no one may see it?"

The old man smiled. "That is very easy. I will summon a thick fog to mask us. Do not worry."

Sami nodded and signaled to the Vikings to move out. The sons of the North moved to rescue their chieftain from death's claws.


	4. Chapter 4

Droplets of water were monotonously hitting the stone floor and Dean watched them create a small puddle. The black, massive walls of the dungeon they were in were coated in moss. There was a poor semblance of a bed that was made of straw, currently occupied by heavily wounded Castiel. To make it little bit more comfortable for him, Dean had put his fur cloak over the straw.

The Viking had pulled the arrows out as soon after Alastair's men threw them into this cell. Two wounds of the three that Castiel had received were not lethal, but Dean was worried about the one which Castiel had near his ribs. He could not stop the bleeding. And the cloth which was pressed to the wound was scarlet red, completely saturated and no longer of much use.

Castiel panted and mumbled something, his body trembling; it was cold in the cell. Dean knelt beside him and checked his wound. "Hey, Cas, how are you feeling?" The Viking put his hand on Castiel's forehead. It was covered with cold sweat and the Saxon's eyes glistened feverishly. He groaned and licked his lips.

Dean swore under his breath. "You hold on, I'll get you out of here. Do you hear me? We will leave this place together." Dean watched as Castiel rolled his head from side to side, turning even paler.

"I won't make it. If you have a chance to free yourself, don't hesitate," Castiel said in a weak voice, coughing. Immediately blood poured from his mouth.

"Hey, hey take it easy!" Dean demanded and lifted Castiel's shirt to check the wound. The cloth was completely soaked with blood, so the Viking immediately stood up and removed his tunic.

Castiel's blue eyes stared at him. "What are you doing, Dean?"

"Oh, nothing, it's just getting hot in here." Dean grinned as he ripped it to shreds. He carefully removed the previous cloth and pressed the new one against the wound.

Castiel looked at Dean's bare chest and arms. "You will freeze like that."

"I remember you saying that before," the Viking chuckled. "I am son of the North. This cold is nothing compared to the severe winters we have in my land."

"Why are you trying to save me?" suddenly asked the Saxon.

Dean did not answer immediately. He glanced at Castiel, studying his face carefully, before replying. "I like you, Cas. You are a good man. From the story told by Alastair, I understand that your father was also a good man, a man devoted to his king. And you are a good son following your father's path."

Dean looked at the dungeon walls, took a deep breath, and continued: "Your pain is very familiar to me. Five winters ago, when I was fighting in the kingdom of the Danes with my warriors, my enemy from the neighboring village came. They slashed and killed everyone who was left in the village, including women and infants, burnt down our houses and barns, stole all our cattle." Dean's voice filled with anger as the memories resurfaced in his mind.

Castiel glanced at him in sympathy. "I am sorry," he whispered almost inaudibly.

"Don't be. When I came back home, we raided their village. And our revenge was much worse than their attack. Anyway, you need to rest." Dean tried to stand up when Castiel caught his arm.

"Please, stay with me."

The Viking arched his brow and laughed. "But I'm not going anywhere. From what I can tell, we are locked here."

Castiel smiled. "You know what I mean. You can lie beside me."

Dean felt a warm feeling spreading in his chest. He dropped to his knees and hands and carefully, as not to disturb the Saxon, crawled over the man's slim body. The Saxon patted his fur coat, which he was using as bedding.

"As you wish." Dean lifted the edge of the coat and slid under it.

Castiel gasped slightly when Dean's body touched his hand. The heat that the Viking was radiating was amazing.

"You are so warm," said Castiel, bewildered. Dean just snuggled closer and adjusted the cloak so it could cover both of them.

"Indeed, I'm like a fire. I am sure you will want to check it yourself, but only once you get better," the Viking stated with a cocky smirk.

Castiel shuddered unwillingly hearing Dean's husky voice so close. This drew a wicked smile from Dean. "You know, if you were not injured, I would not be wasting any time. I would take you right here and right now in the straw. But I can be patient." Dean's heavy breathing tickled Castiel's neck.

"I would not surrender that easily," Castiel barely managed to mutter, while Dean's fingers slid under his shirt and shamelessly started to explore his body.

"I don't think you would resist." Dean's fingers reached Castiel's left nipple and massaged it.

"Of c-course I would res…nghh…" Castiel bit his lip and shut his eyes, moaning.

"Shh, take it easy." Dean leaned on his elbow. His other hand continued caressing Castiel's body.

The Saxon's eyes snapped back open when he felt hot breath on his face; Dean's face was only few inches away from his. Castiel lost himself in those emerald lakes that shone down at him, full of lust. He slowly raised his uninjured hand and wrapped it around Dean's neck, pulling him down. The Viking's long hair poured down into Castiel's face like a honey river.

The kiss was sweet, careful, but full of passion. Dean was trying to taste every possible part of Castiel's mouth as his tongue invaded the Saxon's mouth. The delicious and sinful noises which were coming from the Saxon's throat were enough to make Dean as hard as a rock, but he knew it was not a right time or place.

"And you said you could resist me," the Viking smiled, lying down next to the wounded man. "You should get some sleep."

* * *

Three hours later, Alastair, with six of his warriors, came to see his captives. Dean and Castiel were asleep under a fur cloak. The Viking held his wounded friend in a tight embrace, his broad, bare chest pressed firmly against Castiel's back. The rattling of the keys woke both of them up. Dean wiped the sleep out of his eyes and stared at his captor.

"Hm, Castiel, I see you are not wasting any time with your lover," Alastair smirked.

"What do you want, Alastair?" Castiel growled menacingly, but he couldn't help it when his face distorted in pain as he tried to sit up.

"I have a proposal for you," Alastair said, as he stopped in front of his captives.

"What proposal?"

Alastair scratched his beard and folded his arms on his chest. "I am sure you have heard of gladiator fights. Have you not? Maybe this simpleton has not," he said, gesturing at Dean.

The Viking snarled and rose, taking a step towards him. Immediately Alastair's men drew their swords.

"Enough!" Alastair roared.

Dean's icy cold eyes stared at the man. "I swear by Odin's beard, I will get you!" he growled, subdued.

Alastair did not pay attention to the threat and went on: "Too bad your lover is wounded; I would love to see him get himself killed in the arena. Therefore I am offering you the following proposal: tomorrow you will fight with my men and if you win, I will let you go."

"That should not be that hard. I agree to your proposal," Dean snorted. "But I will fight with two terms. The first: you return my sword to me. I will not fight with any other weapon. And second: When I leave, he comes with me." Dean pointed at Castiel.

Alastair narrowed his eyes. His grey, small eyes studied the Viking carefully. "Fine, let it be so," he said after tense silence. "Tomorrow, at noon, then," he said as he walked out of their cell.

"I don't like this." Castiel frowned as soon as Alastair was gone. "He's sly like a fox and dangerous. And never keeps his word."

"Calm down. I know what to do." Dean squeezed Castiel's shoulder gently. "Trust me, we will be out of here tomorrow."

"I'm so sorry I will not be able to help you." Castiel's voice was full of regret.

"Hey, it's alright. All I want from you is for you to rest and gather your strength," Dean tried his best to assure the wounded man after seeing his worried expression.

Castiel relaxed and closed his eyes. He prayed to God, asking for the protection and salvation of his friend… or maybe his lover?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for some action ;)

Dean was woken up by the sound of a horn blowing. He started and looked down at Castiel. The Saxon was resting his head against Dean's shoulder, sleeping perfectly peacefully; the Viking noticed that he looked a fair bit better—his cheeks were light pink, which was an improvement.

Dean gingerly touched Castiel's hair, smiling to himself. The Saxon mewled something in his sleep and snuggled closer to get more warmth. Dean couldn't hold in his laugh.

"What's so funny?" Castiel asked, looking up at him with blurry eyes. His hair was disheveled, sticking out in different directions.

"You're like a cat. A little, purring cat seeking warmth," the Viking grinned at him. "How are you feeling? Any better?"

"The wounds hurt like hell, but I think I'll live." Castiel grimaced as he tried to turn over.

"I'm sure you will." Dean grinned, snuggling in close to him.

Footsteps broke their idyll. Alastair's men appeared in the corridor and opened the cell.

"Viking, it is noon. Come with us!" their commander ordered, who held his sword at the ready in case Dean tried to attack.

"I am ready," Dean replied calmly. The grip on his wrist made him turn around. Castiel's concerned and somewhat frightened eyes were staring at him.

"I have a horrible feeling," the Saxon muttered.

"It's alright Cas, nothing will happen. I will get you out of here." Dean patted his cheek before brushing his thumb over Castiel's bottom lip. "Just rest and wait for me. I will return for you."

Castiel swallowed hard and nodded. He could not help but feel the panic that was quickly spreading through his mind and body.

"Let's go," Dean turned to the warriors, who were gaping at the Viking's solid build.

Their commander mumbled something under his breath and stepped aside so that Dean could leave the cell. Soldiers followed the Viking with slow steps. When Dean was ahead of them and their voices could not reach his hearing, the commander turned to his soldiers. "Be ready. As soon as he walks out..."

The soldiers nodded.

 

* * *

The arena where the fight was going to take place was square shaped, surrounded by a five foot tall wooden wall. Alastair's warriors stood alongside the walls waiting for a bloody show, all laughing, joking, and making bets.

Alastair was sitting in an armchair on a high platform covered with Persian rugs, his closest friends and his court seated beside him while the guards stood behind their lord. Silence fell as Dean entered the arena. The only sound was from his steps squeaking in the yellow sand. A cold breeze ruffled his long hair as a loud rumble went through the crowd.

The Viking stopped and looked at Alastair. "I'm here and ready for a fight, just as I said. Give me my sword."

Alastair gave a sign and one of the warriors threw the massive sword at the Viking. Dean caught it with one hand.

"Oh, how I missed you, precious," he whispered and lovingly caressed its hilt.

The sword was a rare beauty; runes were engraved on its long, sharp blade that shone in sun light, the hilt had a dragon head form with ruby eyes.

"Where are your men? Who must I fight?" Dean demanded, looking around, searching for his rivals.

"Here they are," Alastair replied and twelve armored warriors entered the arena. They were wearing leather armor and held advantage in comparison with the half-naked Viking, who was wearing still only his fur pants and boots. Dean bent his head back and laughed aloud.

"Alastair, you are flattering me. I see you are not sure your warriors can defeat me one on one. So that's why you're hounding them on me in a group? You son of a bitch!"

Alastair's face turned red. He banged his fist on the arm of his chair. "Shut your mouth, you dirty rat, before I cut your tongue out myself!"

The Viking shot him a hateful look and spat aside.

"Begin and give me the pleasure of seeing how he dies!" Alastair shouted at his warriors.

The first attack came from the spearman; his weapon hissed as it rushed through the air towards Dean. The Viking promptly leaned to the side and the spear flashed by his ear and plunged into the wooden wall behind him. Two swordsmen came next, lunging at the same time. While blocking one of their strikes, Dean kicked the other one in the knee. The bone snapped instantly and the man fell on the ground, screaming. The Viking quickly hacked off his head. Dean dealt with the second easily, driving his sword into his throat.

Dean went over to the wall and pulled the spear out, holding it in his left hand. To Dean's credit, he could use both hands ambidextrously. He threw the spear at the warrior standing in the center and it plunged into the man's right eye.

"Is this all you can do?" he mocked Alastair's men. "Our children can fight better than you, you cowardly wenches!" Dean pulled his sword out of one of his victim's chests. So far he had killed half of the group and six warriors remained.

"Oh, this should be interesting," he chuckled as a big man with two axes lunged straight at him. The Viking ducked his head, squatted, and tore the man's stomach by thrusting his sword into it. "Axes are for Vikings, you idiot," he snickered as he grabbed them.

He held his sword between his teeth and threw the axes at two more rivals; one axe cut the throat of the warrior open, a river of blood spilling out. The other axe smashed the other man's skull, hitting him between the eyes.

The remaining two warriors looked at each other and slowly walked backwards. They were trying to escape, but Dean was faster. He grabbed the closest man to him and rapidly broke his neck. The last one was running for the door to get out of the arena when Dean's sword caught him. It sliced his leather armor like a hot knife through butter.

All his rivals were dead. The Viking walked over to the corpse and pulled his sword out.

Dean rubbed his face. The Viking was a glorious sight to see. His chest heaved, every muscle of his body glistened with sweat. His muscular, beefy body stood still under the sunlight with his bloody sword held in his hand, emerald eyes scanning the arena for more danger.

The crowd was shocked, with only the wind's hissing breaking the silence. Nothing like this had happened before; one single Viking had defeated all of Alastair's chosen warriors.

"I won. Your warriors are dead. You keep your word and let us go," Dean's voice boomed.

Alastair stood up. He looked at the dead bodies, bewildered. Then his grey eyes found Dean's face. "You're not going anywhere," he hissed.

Dean's felt his blood boiling and he ran towards Alastair's platform. "But you gave us your word, you bastard!" he yelled.

"I changed my mind," Alastair answered coldly. He turned to archers. "Kill him."

His archers stepped forward, holding their arbalests at the ready, when loud shouting sounded from outside the arena.

"Milord!" A young warrior came running towards the arena. He was one of Alastair's watchmen. "We are in trouble, milord!" he kept yelling.

"What the hell is going on? Why are you yelling?" Alastair snapped at the watchman.

"Vikings, milord! We've been attacked. They broke down the gates. All other watchmen are dead; I barely escaped to inform you!"

Panic spread through the crowd. Warriors grabbed their swords as they were shouting anxiously.

"What are you looking at? Kill him!" Alastair cried out as he ran off the platform.

Archers never had a chance to aim their arbalests at Dean as axes flew through the air and smashed into their skulls. Mighty roaring filled the air, along with the clashing of weapons; yelling and screaming sounded from every corner of the yard. The Vikings rushed towards the arena.

"Dean!" a familiar voice called and Dean's heart skipped a beat. Sami the Bloody Axe, his best friend from childhood and his faithful aid, was running towards him with the rest of the Vikings. Sami crushed his chieftain in a bear hug.

"By the name of Odin, you are alive!" He broke the hug and looked at his friend. "Are you wounded? Why are you half naked? What has happened? Why are you here?" he poured questions at Dean.

"No, I'm not wounded, I'm fine. How did you find me?" Dean asked, amazed.

"We searched for you everywhere and could not find you. Ulvhat told us you were captured by the men with a bear on their flag. We saw the flags at the gates and knew you were here. But Ulvhat also said he saw blood, that you might be fatally injured," Sami replied as he frowned.

"Ulvhat was right. There is blood, but not mine. It is a long story. I will tell you everything in detail later. Now, you must come with me. I need to save my friend." Dean put his hand on Sami's shoulder.

"A friend?" Sami's eyes widened. "You have a new friend?"

"Yes, his name is Castiel. We were captured together and he is heavily wounded." Dean started to walk towards the exit with Sami and the other Vikings following him.

 

* * *

"No, no, no! Oh, Gods, no!" Dean's yelling almost shook the walls of the dungeon. The cell was empty. He ran out of the dungeon with Sami by his side. Mass chaos reigned at Alastair's house; the Vikings had annihilated almost all of Alastair's warriors. Only a small group had escaped, whilst others had simply dropped their weapons and begged for mercy.

"What should we do with him?" asked one of the two Vikings that had dragged Alastair before Dean.

"Alastair, where is Castiel? What did you do with him?" Dean grabbed the man by his throat.

"I sent him away. You will never see him again." Alastair spat blood in Dean's direction and smirked lopsidedly.

"Where is he? What did you do to him!?" The Viking snarled and punched him in the jaw.

"You will never be able to find him, I hid him away very safely," Alastair taunted the Berserk, smiling blissfully. "Oh, I can hear how he must be calling for you, counting his last breaths. But you will not find him. So touching, I might cry." Alastair's evil laughter made Dean lose control.

"I will break your neck, I swear by Odin's name, if you don't tell me where you hid him. This is your last chance," Dean growled, gritting his teeth.

"Go to hell..." was Alastair's only answer. His smirk still stayed on his face after the Viking's hands broke his neck.

Dean grabbed his head in his hands, shoulders slumped. "Where are you, Cas? Where should I search for you?"

Sami looked at the Vikings and gave them a sign to leave. They obeyed and left the two alone and Sami stood beside Dean.

"I see he has got your attention. You like him, don't you?" he asked in a soft voice.

Dean looked at his friend with tired eyes. "Yes, he is a good man," he answered simply.

Sami sighed. He knew about his friend's sexual orientation and was fine with it. "Come on, together we will find him."

Dean shook his head and huffed bitterly: "I promised him that I would get him out of here. I didn't keep my promise. I didn't rescue him."

"It was not your fault. This bastard planned it in advance," Sami assured Dean, trying to calm his friend.

"I must find him before it's too late," Dean muttered. "I'll be damned if I don't find you, Cas!"

The Vikings left Alastair's house. The black smoke rose up to the sky behind them.


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as the Vikings left the smoking ruins behind, the sky turned black. Ominous, heavy clouds stretched above the warriors, almost as if they wished to bring about Armageddon, or Ragnarok as the Vikings would say.

Raindrops thudded against the leaves of the trees and bounced off noisily. The weather made Dean's mood worse. A detailed search of Alastair's house had shown no traces of Castiel. The Berserk did not have the slightest idea where to search for his missing friend.

With fears and suspicions growing ever-larger in his mind, Dean reached his camp. The rest of the Vikings, who had been left behind there to guard their ship and protect Ulvhat, were extremely happy to see their chieftain alive and unharmed, not understanding his foul mood. He went to Ulvhat, hoping the sorcerer would know where to find Castiel.

"The Gods do not wish to answer your question, Dean." Ulvhat sighed and threw the ingredients of the bowl aside.

Dean could not believe what he heard. "But they always answer when you ask."

"Possibly because he does not worship our Gods?" the old man asked calmly.

"With their help or without it, I will find him." Dean stood up. "I'm going to search for him and will not return without him. Get all the herbs and mixtures you have, we don't know what we may need. Sami, I need you to come with me." The Viking turned to his friend, who was leaning on his huge battle axe.

"Of course, no need to ask. I was going to come with you whether you wanted me to or not," his giant friend chuckled.

Dean chose fifty warriors and the search for Castiel resumed.

* * *

The weather did not intend to improve; heavy rains began to fall and chilling wind did not make their task any easier. Two days passed and their search brought no results, they stomped through the mud, marsh, prickly hedges. The Vikings checked the every inch of the surrounding area, but they found nothing; it truly seemed Castiel had just vanished.

Dean had lost almost all hope and kept quiet. He did not utter a single word as the sun began to sink behind the horizon. They had to go through the woods to get to their camp when they heard a noise.

"What is it?" Sami asked, looking around.

"Sounds like a horse neighing," Dean stated, straining his ears.

They walked towards the noise. A beautiful, white horse snorted and stomped the ground as the Vikings approached.

"What is such a beautiful animal doing in these woods?" Dean wondered aloud, looking at the horse. "Maybe the owner was killed? The horse is saddled."

"Dean, look," Sami pointed behind the horse. It looked like a huge beast's lair, covered with branches, leaves, and twigs.

Dean grabbed his sword. "Give me the torch, I'm going inside."

The Berserk held the torch in one hand and cleared the entrance of branches before disappearing into the darkness.

Sami began to fidget nervously as time passed, making the warriors worried too.

"What's taking him so long? Maybe we should go check?" suggested one of the Vikings, one with a double-bladed axe.

"Let's wait a bit longer and if he does not..." Sami never managed to finish as a yell from the lair permeated the area.

"Odin almighty!" Dean shouted, startling everyone.

"Dean, are you alright?" Sami called, running to the lair, ready to rush inside, when his friend showed up. Dean was carrying Castiel's unconscious body. The Saxon was gagged, his hands tied. There were some scratches and dried blood on his cheeks and forehead. Dean carefully laid him on the ground.

"Give me a dagger!" he demanded of one of the Vikings and, as soon as he got it, started to cut the rope and removed the gag.

"So, he is Castiel?" Sami whispered, squatted beside him.

"Yes, it's him." Dean was checking Castiel's face for his worst wounds. "Rats. Fucking rodents," he spat aside.

"What about his wound?" Sami looked down at Castiel. Dean lifted the shirt and cursed, the wound looked bad. It was becoming infected. "We need to take him to Ulvhat as soon as possible."

Sami frowned. "Yes, you are right. You know what you should do? Take this horse and take Castiel to him. We will join you in few hours." Sami put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Thank you, Sami." Dean mumbled.

"Don't mention it."

Suddenly Castiel moaned and barely managed to open his eyes.

"Cas, please Cas!" Dean cried out, overpowered by all his emotions.

"Dean... is that you?" Castiel rasped.

"Yes, it's me. I found you, just as I promised." Dean cracked a smile and he helped Castiel sit up.

"Water, please." The Saxon licked his lips. Some Viking passed a water flask to Dean, which Castiel drank from greedily.

"I have not drunk water for three days," he murmured, smiling faintly. "As soon as you left the cell, Alastair's soldiers grabbed me. They gagged me, tied me up, and brought to these woods, throwing me into this hole. I could feel the rats biting me and could not do anything. All I could do was pray for you to stay alive." Castiel's head rested against Viking's shoulder.

"It's over Cas. You will be fine. I am going to take you to our sorcerer, he will help you." Dean lifted Castiel's limp body. "I'll make sure you eat well too." The Viking noticed how light his friend felt. Castiel definitely had lost weight during these few days.

Dean turned to his people. "I will see you at the camp, then."

Sami nodded. "Be careful."

Dean helped Castiel into the saddle and mounted the horse. The horse neighed and galloped away.

* * *

"You scared the living daylights out of me, Cas." Dean sighed as they left to get to the camp.

"I'm sorry, I did not intend to do so." Castiel felt so peaceful, with his friend holding him tight against his chest.

"You better not scare me like this again." Dean tilted Castiel's head to the side so he could catch his lips.

"Or what?" Castiel asked, smiling faintly.

"Your ass will end up red." The Viking grinned at him. Castiel snorted, but did not say anything.

As they galloped, the distance became shorter and Dean could finally see their camp. He noticed Ulvhat wearing a white robe and staring at him with an inexplicable expression from the distance.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little bit disturbing chapter. Cas will go through some tremendous pain....

Dean noticed Ulvhat's expression, but said nothing. He dismounted the horse and carried Castiel towards the ship. The Vikings who had stayed at the camp silently stared at their chieftain.

"This is my friend Castiel. I want you to respect and protect him. You will fight for him if his life is in danger, as you would do for me." Dean stated to his men before getting onboard the ship.

Ulvhat was waiting for him there already. Dean laid Castiel on the soft animal furs of the bed and went to the sorcerer, who was standing on the deck, looking out at the sea.

"What is it, Ulvhat? I saw your face from the horse," he whispered.

The sorcerer's stern face wrinkled. "The Gods will not like this, Dean. He is a foreigner and worships another god."

The Viking huffed. "And? Why would our Gods be angry with us because he worships another god?"

"He is on our ship. Odin will not be pleased if the stranger defiles this vessel; the Gods might punish us by sinking us into the depths." The sorcerer's strict tone made Dean flinch.

"I will not leave him here. His house and possessions got burnt by his enemy. He has no place to go," Dean insisted.

Ulvhat glared, staring at him with his one eye. "And how do you know that is true?"

"That lord was his enemy who caught us, he told us he had raided his land, razed it to the ground, and only ruins remained."

"Many words can escape a human's mouth, but not all of them are true," the sorcerer replied calmly. "Alright, let me see his wounds." With these words they both went to Castiel, who had fallen asleep amongst the warm furs of Dean's bed.

"Dean, this wound looks very bad." Ulvhat frowned as he checked Castiel's wound near his ribs, which was irritated and leaking. "I wonder how he is still alive."

Dean's heart pounded like a drum and he barely managed to gulp. "Can you save him?"

The sorcerer seemed deep in thought for a few minutes. "There might be some way to save him, but I must warn you that it will be very painful for him."

Dean sat beside Castiel and looked down at his friend's face. Even in his sleep, Castiel seemed troubled from his pains as he made small whimpering noises. The Berserk looked up at the sorcerer, his eyes showing that he had come to his final decision.

"Do it. As long as he lives, you do whatever is necessary."

Ulvhat nodded. "Get two strong warriors. I need you to hold him still while I try to cure him."

Dean blinked. "I can hold him. Why do we need two more warriors?"

"Believe me and do as I say."

The Viking felt worried, but did as Ulvhat said, calling Sami and another bulky warrior.

* * *

The first stage of the process was to clean the wound of bad blood and pus. The sorcerer washed his hands carefully in a bowl of water with strange smelling herbs and lifted Castiel's shirt.

"You two, hold his legs still, Dean, you hold his arms," Ulvhat instructed.

Dean's stomach churned as Ulvhat's hands ghosted over Castiel's wound and began to squeeze the surrounding area. Immediately the Saxon's eyes snapped open and he let out a desperate cry.

"Cas, Cas please, be still. We need to clean your wound, please try not to move," Dean whispered frantically as he tried to hold his friend's body still. Castiel was struggling and twisting and he managed to break his legs free and kicked them desperately.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for all this pain. Please forgive me," Dean kept whispering in Castiel's ear, eyes firmly shut. Castiel just kept wriggling and screaming and trying to break free from the vice like grips that had been renewed upon his legs.

"The pus and bad blood is removed," Ulvhat finally declared, to Dean's immense relief. "Now I need to pull the arrow piece out."

"What?!" Dean couldn't believe his ears.

"There is a small piece of the arrow left in the wound. If I don't pull it out, he will most likely die."

Dean groaned. He hadn't even considered that Castiel might still have a piece of shrapnel left inside his wound.

"Do it," the Berserk managed to croak.

Ulvhat washed his hands once again and raised his silver knife. He held it in the torch fire for some time.

"No, Dean please don't," Castiel begged, staring pleadingly at the Viking as Ulvhat started to approach him again.

"Cas, I am sorry, so very sorry. You will die if he does not remove the arrow piece, this must be done." Dean soothed, caressing Castiel's hair as the Saxon's head had come to rest in Dean's lap.

"Dean, give him this drink. It will give him the strength to fight his illness," Ulvhat instructed, passing a wooden goblet filled to its brim with a strange liquid.

"Here, Cas, drink it," Dean cajoled, as he helped Cas raise his head and sip the drink slowly.

"Drink all of it." Ulvhat said.

Castiel obeyed and after he had finished the drink, Dean passed the goblet to the sorcerer.

"Very well. Now hold him more tightly this time."

Castiel's cries and wails of pain startled the Vikings on shore as they tried not to imagine what could cause a man such agony. The sorcerer had made a neat cut in Castiel's already wounded flesh and now his skilled fingers were searching inside until they found the cause of all this trouble.

"Ah, there it is," Ulvhat announced, before pulling the arrow piece out. It was an index finger size piece of wood. The Saxon, too exhausted to carry on, lost consciousness. Ulvhat washed Castiel's wound, put some ointment on it, and bandaged it.

Sami stayed onboard beside Dean while the other Viking went on shore.

"He is a very lucky man, this Saxon," Sami commented, glancing at Castiel.

"I cannot believe I left a piece in him," Dean shook his head. "I just hope he will get better."

"This is not your fault. You did everything you could. You mustn't blame yourself," Sami argued. "I am sure he will be alright. Do you really think that your meeting was a mere random act?" Sami questioned.

"What do you mean?" Dean arched his brow, confused.

"I mean, maybe the Gods had planned your meeting? Maybe our ship went off course by their will so you two could meet?" Sami reasoned, narrowing his eyes. Dean had never thought about it. But what if Sami was right?

"Maybe you are right," he said and went to find Ulvhat, who was ready to go onshore. "Is he going to be alright?" Dean asked the sorcerer.

"If he wakes up before the dawn, yes. But, don't hope too much, my Jarl," came the short reply.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hel - in Norse mythology was the mistress of underworld
> 
> Garm - monster in Helheim

Dean was getting nervous, restless. The sorcerer had said that if Castiel was going to survive, he would wake before dawn. It was now two hours until sunrise and yet there had been no sign of Castiel waking.

The rest of the camp was sleeping; the fire on the beach was extinguished, its embers dying slowly. Dean looked at the sleeping warriors, his brave and devoted men. He needed to get them home.

Quiet moaning withdrew Dean from his thoughts; Castiel shifted on his bed and Dean was immediately walking to him in seconds.

"Cas…" his voice broke. "Why do you keep frightening me?" Dean asked, grabbing hold of his friend's hand and gently squeezing it.

"Why were you frightened, Dean?" Castiel asked naively. The rain had finally stopped and the full moon shone in the sky and Cas' eyes reflected the moonlight, almost sparkling.

"Ulvhat said that if you did not wake before dawn, you would not survive," Dean explained, dropping his gaze.

"Oh..." Castiel tried to sit up. "I feel much better now. I do not know what Ulvhat gave me to drink, but I feel as if my strength has returned to me," the Saxon stated as he tried to push the furs aside.

Dean looked on in astonishment. "What are you doing?"

"I need to go and see my home. Alastair said he burnt it down, but maybe he was lying? Maybe they're all safe?"

Dean pushed Castiel back onto furs gently, putting one hand on his chest, effectively holding him there. "You are not going anywhere," he said in a warning tone.

"But I must see!" Castiel struggled weakly against Dean, but couldn't get back up, still drained from his escapade.

"Cas…" Dean growled. "Don't make me tie you up."

The Saxon glared at Dean, pushing his hand away angrily. "It's my house and I need to see what they've done with it!" he snarled, gritting his teeth.

Dean sighed. He could understand what Castiel was feeling, but he could not allow his friend to go in such a poor condition. "Let me make you a deal. I will go for you and see if Alastair was lying, whilst you stay here and try your best to get better. How does that sound?"

Castiel thought for a moment. Then his frown disappeared and he smiled a little. "You do not have to do this for me, Dean." His smile was truly beautiful, Dean decided. He could look at the Saxon's smile all day and not be bored of it.

"But I want to. You just tell me how to find your house."

"If you take the horse, you should get there in three hours. There are two roads leading to my household. One is the main road and the other one is not so well-known. You should take this road. It is rarely used and you are less likely to encounter anyone." Castiel's fingers were busy tracing small patterns on Dean's hand whilst he explained how to find the road that would take Dean to his home.

"Very well, then. I will go and check. Now, I want you to drink this." Dean took a bowl of hot broth and handed it to Castiel, watching fondly as his friend enjoyed the simple meal.

"Mmm, it's so good." Castiel closed his eyes in satisfaction and Dean couldn't help his thoughts from turning slightly dirty. Quickly, he changed the subject.

"It's Ulvhat's special recipe. Do you like it?" he chuckled and waited for Castiel to finish and took the bowl back as soon as he had drained it. "You should get some sleep. And promise me while I'm gone you will not try to do anything stupid."

"Stupid? What do you mean?" Castiel's brows knitted together.

"Don't try to get up and roam around. Or I will tell Sami to tie you up." Dean tried to be serious, but began to shake with laughter when the Saxon gave him a 'bitch face'. "Come here." Dean grinned and grabbed back of the Saxon's neck as to tug him closer so their lips could meet in a hungry kiss. Dean held Castiel's cheeks, which were starting to cover with faint stubble, while he was licking, sucking, and ever so slightly biting at his lips.

When they broke the kiss Castiel tilted his head back in a soundless moan, giving Dean the opportunity to hungrily attack his neck, making the Saxon clutch at him for dear life. His hands roamed over Dean's back as small gasps escaped his mouth.

"Dean…" he moaned.

"Yes, Cas?" The Viking could hear his blood rushing in his ears, even as he asked the question.

"I…I want you Dean…" Castiel sent all his remaining doubts to hell as he claimed the Viking's mouth, overwhelmed with lust.

Dean clung on for a few more seconds before reluctantly pulling his lips away from the Saxon's. "I know Cas, and I want you too, but this is not a proper place or time."

Castiel smiled bitterly and looked away. Looking at his crestfallen face, Dean felt something break inside him.

"Look at me." He touched Castiel's chin and tilted his head towards him. The Saxon's hurt blue eyes turned slowly to look at him.

"I like you a lot, Cas." Dean brushed his thumb over the Saxon's bottom lip. Castiel smiled fondly at the blush that spread across Dean's cheeks after announcing his feelings. "And I promise you, the proper time will arrive soon enough." Dean kissed him, catching his lips in a quick and greedy kiss before he stood up. "I am going to check your house. I should be back in few hours. You get some rest."

Dean went to shore and found Sami, briefly explaining what he was planning. Sami protested when the Berserk said he was going alone; he wanted to go with him, but Dean asked him to watch over Castiel instead, a task he considered to be of great importance. With that, the Berserk mounted the horse and galloped away to find Castiel's house.

* * *

Alastair had spoken the truth; ash and ruined, burnt down walls greeted Dean. Corpses were scattered around and the smell of decay was enough to make the Viking feel like he might retch. Stray dogs were running around, barking at Dean, almost spooking his horse, and fighting over the bones of what had probably once been their owners.

"I hope Garm* is gnawing on your bones in Helheim, you evil bastard." The Viking spat aside, spurring the horse, intent on getting himself as far away from the familiar destruction as possible.

Dean's heart was heavy from what he had seen. He didn't have the slightest idea how to tell Castiel about the massacre of his people, the devastation he had himself had witnessed, which was all that was left of what was once Cas' home. His mood was becoming increasingly worse as the distance shortened. He really didn't want to do this to the man he was coming to love.

It turned out, he didn't have to say anything at all. The moment Castiel saw the look on his face, he seemed to know the truth. "No, please God, nooo…" Castiel sobbed, his face buried in his hands as he wept bitterly.

"I'm so sorry, Cas. I… I don't know what to say." Dean hung his head awkwardly. Nothing would have comforted him after what happened to his own people, so what could he say to Cas?

"He killed everyone. Even the children and women," the Saxon mumbled in shock. "How could he do that when they had done nothing to him? What could the children have done to him?"

"I am glad he is dead. I'm glad he's paying for what he did," the Viking stated, wrapping his arm around Castiel's shoulder while Castiel stared at the horizon, still caught up in his own pain and shock.

"Where am I going to go? I have no place to go. They were all I had left," he whispered to himself, but Dean still caught it.

"You are coming with me. To my homeland," Dean's voice said softly.

"That is very kind of you, Dean, but… but… I don't want to burden you," Castiel replied sadly.

Dean frowned. "You are not my burden and you never will be."

The Saxon wiped his eyes, a vague watery smile forming on his lips. "Thank you," he whispered, leaning against Dean for the comfort of his solid frame.

"You're welcome. We should get…" Dean began, but was cut off when Castiel's eyes rolled back into his head and blood began to trickle down from his nostrils.

"Cas!? What's wrong? Cas?"

The Saxon's body shook violently and he fell onto the furs in worrying convulsions.

"Ulvhat!" Dean yelled desperately, the sorcerer appearing almost immediately at his side. "What is wrong with him? Is he dying?"

Ulvhat looked at Castiel. "Hel* has laid her hand on him; she is trying to drag him to her kingdom. Now everything, whether he lives or dies, depends on his strength to fight her. But I have not seen anyone run from her grip, my boy." The sorcerer straightened and leaned on his staff.

"Is there anything at all that I can do for him?" Dean all but begged Ulvhat.

"He needs warmth. His life force is draining away from him. And I cannot do much on this ship." Ulvhat patted Dean's shoulder in condolence and began to walk away.

Dean made his decision immediately. He went on deck and made a sign for his warriors to gather.

"Get your things packed up. We are going home. Now."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope lovers of North mythology will like this chapter :)

Dean indeed had some of the most amazing warriors to walk the earth, already understanding that Castiel was someone very special and important to their chieftain. Immediately they did their best to get home as soon as possible.

Usually, if the weather was good, it took two weeks or maybe even longer for Viking ships to travel to Norway from the British Isles, but this time Dean's men really had performed a miracle. The weather and wind were favorable and they reached Norway in ten days.

During these ten days, Castiel simply remained unconscious, in a completely blacked-out state. Dean's eyes were red and sore from lack of sleep; he had been eating and talking much less and Sami was becoming very concerned about him. "Dean, I know you are worried about him, but you need to eat and rest," he reprimanded his friend. "You will starve yourself to death if you don't eat soon."

"I can't. It's been ten days, Sami, and he has not woken up," Dean groaned.

"He is strong and he is fighting fiercely. I am sure Gods will help him," Sami tried to comfort Dean.

Dean laughed bitterly. "Ulvhat says the Gods will not interfere, as he does not worship our Gods."

Sami snorted. "How does that make sense? Hel already is trying to drag him into her kingdom. Our deities already have interfered."

Dean raised his head. Something was wrong here. If Castiel was not a heathen, then why would Hel be interested in getting Castiel's soul? "We should hope that other deities will intercede for him."

* * *

Dean's house was massive and made of wood. The roof was made of small wooden tiles and turf. Being the Viking chieftain, he had the richest house in the town; it had a huge hall with a long wooden table with benches, where he often feasted with his warriors. The walls were decorated with different types of weapons from various countries. Dean loved the weapons; they were definitely a weak spot of his.

The fireplace was placed in the corner; this was the main difference between his and other Vikings' houses. Usually, Vikings' houses had a fireplace in the center of the room. But Dean disliked the black smoke burning his eyes, and so he had ordered his builders to put the fireplace in the corner so that the smoke would not disturb him or his guests.

On the central wall, where two crossed axes were hung, stood a tall chair where Dean would sit before feasts, listening to his people, making decisions, judging or discussing everyday matters. The kitchen, bathing house, and outhouse were located outside of the house, in a separate building. Due to Dean's servants' efforts, all the rooms were clean and polished.

Dean's bedroom was behind the central wall; the floor was covered with rich, soft carpet, as was the wall behind the headboard. The room did not have much furniture, but what it had was very impressive; there was a big oak chest against the wall for his clothes, an armchair, and the rarest jewel in the whole town: the enormously sized bed. Dean had brought it home from central Asia a couple of summers ago. Skins of exotic wild beasts were covering the bed.

After a small, cheerful meeting with his town's people, the Berserk was finally able to get to his house. People gave him interested looks when they saw unconscious Saxon as Dean carried Castiel all the way to his house and called for his servants. After his slaves finished washing Castiel, they clothed him in a long, white cotton shirt and, according to Dean's order, put him in the bed.

* * *

_He cannot recognize this place. The air is heavy and humid and yet the strangest thing is the silence. No sound, not even a breeze. Dead silence. Castiel keeps walking; he crosses the field, the green grass reaching up to his knees, red poppies glaring out of it like rubies among emeralds._

_Castiel stops to take pleasure in this pure beauty, kneeling slowly. His fingers delicately touch one of the flowers. It feels so soft. Then, suddenly, sound returns to the area; a small breeze blows, stirring the grass and flowers. Castiel finds himself surrounded by a red sea made of poppies, all of the grass gone without a trace. He stands, knowing that he has to go on. So that is what he does._

_He can see an oak grove beginning at the end of the transformed field. In front one of the trees, which Castiel recognizes as the sacred oak, he notices two figures. As he approaches them, their shapes and faces become more recognizable. Their clothing and figures identify them both as females._

_One is seated upon a chariot tethered to wild cats the size of oxen; she is young and very beautiful, wearing a golden dress. Her honey colored hair is so long it brushes the ground. She has a winged helmet upon her head and sword in her lap. She smiles at the Saxon gently and Castiel feels a benevolence radiating from her._

_That he certainly cannot say about the other woman. Or whatever form of creature she may be._   _Her skeletal fingers are tapping her knee impatiently. She is sitting on the back of a monstrous black hound, the drool dripping from the beast's jaws scorching the earth. The woman is wearing a black dress torn to shreds in many places, which does nothing to cover her skinny, almost fleshless legs. She looks at Castiel with her hollow, terrifying eye sockets and her face distorts in a horrible grin. Thin, grey hair falls to her flat chest as the wind blows._

" _Castiel, how good to see you," the young woman says, her voice sounding like a sweet melody in this beautifully horrible place._

" _Your joy will be short lived," the old woman hisses._

" _We shall see about that," the younger one answers politely._

_Castiel only manages a nod towards the blonde before the old woman dismounts suddenly, grabbing her iron staff, and taking a few steps towards Castiel. Her yellow teeth make an awful screeching sound as she grinds them against one another. Her foul breath hits Castiel hard in the face and his heart starts to pound like a drum._

_The younger woman steps out of her chariot, her eyes flashing with anger. The cats sense their mistress' mood and hiss warningly, tugging wildly at their reins._

" _We have an agreement. I believe you do not want to dissolve it?" the young woman's tone is icy cold, making the grey haired woman retreat reluctantly and snarl._

" _I was not going to."_

" _We can start immediately, if you are ready," the blonde answers calmly._

_The old woman agrees and holds her staff. In synch, the two women circle one another, their intense gazes locked. The sky of this strange realm turns suddenly black and wind bellows around them, causing Castiel's hair to swirl ferociously and the trees to bend in half. Castiel doesn't have the slightest idea about what is happening, but he knows instinctively that he should get out of the way._

_The clashing sound of weapons is deafening. Sparkles fly everywhere and one of childhood memories surfaces from Castiel's mind. When the blacksmith was forging his father's sword, he used to stand beside him and watch the flying sparks, fascinated._

_The earth shakes around them. Castiel can hear battle cries, screams, shouting, beasts roaring as if he is in the middle of a battlefield, but there are only two women in front of him, who are fighting to the death. Somewhere deep in his subconscious, Castiel understands that he is the reason for this fight._

_The young woman manages to land a successful blow and the hag's iron staff falls to the ground and the sword tip is instantly pointed at the old woman's throat._

" _I won. You leave. Now," she states calmly._

_The grey-haired crone screams in rage, and yet she must keep her word. She takes the staff and mounts her hound, the beast snarling and barking with rage. Castiel's ears start to ring from the noise and he clutches them in pain. The earth opens up and a deadly freeze erupts, spreading its tentacles towards the Saxon and Castiel feels his back cover in sweat. He backs away quickly until he's flat against a tree._

" _I have said enough to you! You must leave!" the blond says, more loudly this time._

_The demon beast and its mistress jump into the fathomless hole and the clefts in the ground disappear. The female warrior motions for Castiel, asking him to approach her. The Saxon walks to her with unsteady steps and stops a little way away from her, where some invisible force pushes him to his knees. The blonde drives the sword into the ground before caressing Castiel's hair and brushing his left arm with her right hand. Castiel can feel a slight burning sensation, but it is not really painful._

_She bends down and whispers into his ear:_

" _Go to him…"_

* * *

The Saxon woke up, struggling to inhale as much air as possible. The choking noise that Castiel made startled Dean, who was fast asleep in the armchair beside the bed. Castiel was sitting upright in the bed, his chest heaving, dark wet locks glued to his forehead with sweat.

"Cas?" Dean's voice was simultaneously full of joy, surprise, and fright.

"Dean, is that you?" Castiel looked around in the dark. The room's last candle was dying, shedding its final amber tears. The bed creaked under the Viking's solid weight and Castiel found himself in Dean's tight embrace, the Berserk's strong hands gently caressing his back and neck.

"How long have I been sleeping?" he rasped.

"Two weeks, Cas. Two damn weeks," Dean whispered, rubbing circles on Castiel's back. Castiel barely suppressed a shocked gasp, biting his lip. "No one else believed you would make it, only Sami and I were sure. He knew you were strong enough to come back. Come back to me," Dean's voice cracked.

"I like Sami, he seems to be a very good and loyal friend to you. And he was right, I came back to you. Actually, someone helped me to come back to you." Castiel wrapped his arms tightly around Dean's neck.

The Viking pulled away and stared at his friend with surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I had a strange dream, Dean."

"Dreams can sometimes bear very important messages; they can be prophetic. Tell me about your dream." Dean sat up, prepared to listen.

Castiel explained his dream to Dean, describing every small detail to him. The Viking's face kept changing between shades of deathly white and red and back again while the Saxon was talking about his dream.

Dean's whole body shook with anxiety as Castiel finished telling his dream. His fingers went cold and numb.

"Dean, are you alright?" Castiel touched his cheek.

"Let me see your left arm, Cas, the place where she touched it," Dean mumbled. Castiel arched his brow, but did as he was asked. Dean leaned forward to examine Saxon's arm; what he saw there made him gasp in dismay.

"Dean? What is it?" Castiel didn't understand what made his friend so nervous.

"You are chosen, Cas." Dean was trying to calm his ragged breathing.

"Chosen by who?"

"By Freyja. Our warrior goddess of love and beauty. This is her mark, the sacred rune Fehu." Dean could not believe his own eyes. "Do you understand what happened, Cas?"

Castiel fell silent, trying to figure out what was happening, but after some time he gave up and shook his head.

"In your dream, Freyja fought with Hel over your soul. She saved you." Dean rubbed his face and looked up at the ceiling. "Thank you, mighty Freyja," he whispered frantically. "I shall make a great sacrifice in your name."

Castiel watched his friend, amazed and silent. He could not believe that he was chosen by the foreign goddess. It was very hard for him to understand, and it seemed impossible, but the sign on his left arm stated differently.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will have smut :P Almost the whole chapter :D

Due to Ulvhat's efforts, Castiel's wounds were healing with amazing speed. The Saxon was not sure if it was purely medicine or if magic was also involved, but he couldn't complain. The wounds on his shoulder and his thigh were almost completely gone and the one near the ribs was starting to cover with new, pink flesh.

Castiel was strong enough to walk around now, even though Dean still fussed around him, making sure he was well fed and looking healthy. A week after his dream, the Saxon asked his friend to show him around; the Viking gladly agreed and promised to do it the next day.

* * *

"Here, Cas, try this one." Dean rummaged through his trunk and found some cotton trousers and a button up linen tunic. "Your clothes are torn, so before my servants sew new clothes for you, take mine."

Castiel looked at the clothes doubtfully. "I don't think they are my size," he huffed. In truth, the clothes looked big.

"Well, I apologize, I never expected I would have a skinny Saxon lover." Dean laughed out loud.

The Saxon glared daggers at him. "I am not skinny," he barked.

"Compared to me, yes, you are." The Viking grinned and pulled Castiel into a hug. "But don't worry, I still like this part," he squeezed the Saxon's ass. "Try them on, come on." Dean insisted, pulling away from Castiel to give him some space.

The Saxon sighed and took his night shirt off. As he was putting Dean's clothes on, the Viking was trying his best to stifle his chuckles; his hand clenched into a fist and pressed it to his mouth. Dean's face was turning red from choking back laughing and he was squirming in the armchair.

"I told you they aren't my size. They're far too big," Castiel groaned, throwing his arms up in frustration.

The Saxon looked ridiculous. The tunic was too baggy, revealing his shoulder. As soon as Castiel reached up to button it up, his pants fell down.

It was too much for Dean. He threw his head back and cackled. The cackling turned into a roaring laughter when, enraged, Castiel tried to tear the tunic off and his head got stuck in the tunic's neck hole.

"Dear Gods, my stomach," Dean moaned and went to the Saxon, who was busy in a deadly fight with a damn tunic. "Calm down, will you?" He grabbed Castiel's shoulders.

The Saxon stilled. He pulled the tunic down and his angry eyes stared at Dean.

"This is big, true, but under your fur cloak, it will not be that noticeable." The Viking touched the tunic.

"And what about these?" Castiel pointed at the trousers still around his ankles. "I cannot run around with my ass bared."

Dean smirked at the idea and licked his lips.

"Dean…" the Saxon growled, sensing his friend's perverted thoughts.

"What?" the Viking put an innocent face on. "We can help that too," he laughed and went to the chest again. This time he quickly found what he was looking for.

"Here," he handed a woven belt to Castiel. The belt really helped and the trousers were held tightly around the Saxon's waist. "There, much better." He covered Castiel's mouth with his for a moment. "Come on, I will show you around."

* * *

It was a small town. There were approximately one hundred and fifty buildings, consisting of houses, barns, stables, and farms. The town was surrounded by a large fence to keep wild animals or unexpected intruders out. Dean and Castiel walked slowly while the Viking was explaining their everyday lifestyle to the Saxon.

"The winters are severe and we start preparations very early. We sow wheat, barley, rye, carrots, and many other vegetables. Our cows and sheep give rich, delicious milk, butter, and cheese, which we trade with other villages." Dean was talking to Castiel and nodding to his people who were greeting him as he went, introducing some to Castiel. The Saxon noticed the love and respect in all of their eyes.

"And here we have the best blacksmith in the area." Dean stopped in front of the smithy waiting for an old man to notice him standing there. When he did not, he said good-naturedly, "Gardar, I see you are very busy."

"My Jarl, forgive me, I did not notice you in this noise." The man stopped forging the sword and walked towards the visitors.

"Not to worry, Gardar. This is my friend Castiel. He will live with us from now on."

"Nice to meet you, young man." Gardar wiped his hand on the apron he wore and extended it to Castiel.

"I am glad to meet you too." The Saxon smiled and shook his hand.

"Gardar, I will see you later," Dean told the blacksmith, his voice clearly expressing that there was a hidden message in it, which Gardar understood perfectly; Dean had a special request that he wished to keep from his new companion.

The blacksmith simply nodded politely. "Of course, my Jarl."

Dean and Castiel continued on their way with the Viking chatting nonchalantly the whole time. "I have about three hundred warriors. They all pledged to serve me, to be loyal to me, fight beside me, and die by my side in battle if that is what the Fates decide for them," Dean continued as he walked with Castiel towards the woods.

"Is there a special ceremony to take this oath?" Castiel wondered aloud.

"Yes. I hold a special meeting, the Althing, where in front of everyone a warrior who is willing to enter my service will kneel before me. I present him my sword and he will speak his oath whilst touching its hilt. Then the other warriors acknowledge him as one of my own." They passed the fence and entered the woods.

"What are we doing out here, Dean?" Castiel looked around questioningly.

"Do you remember when I promised Freyja a great sacrifice? Come with me." The Berserk walked towards an immensely tall fir tree with Castiel following behind him.

Nine barrels of honey, nine barrels of ale, nine barrels of oil, and nine sacks of grain were stood in front of the tree.

"This is for her, a gift to thank her for bringing you back to me." The Viking gently smiled. "Honey, ale, and oil should be poured onto the ground so that the earth may soak it up and then grain should be spread over it," Dean explained to Castiel. "As I have promised you, Freyja. Please accept these humble gifts," he whispered and started to empty the barrels onto the ground. Castiel watched with great interest as Dean continued.

"Dean, would it be alright if I thank her as well?" he asked hesitantly.

The Viking smiled, pleased that Castiel wanted to show respect to their goddess.

"I think she will like it." He smiled and gestured for Castiel to continue, watching as the blue-eyed man poured and spread the remaining sacrifice onto the ground.

"Thank you, Freyja," Castiel whispered respectfully before standing up next to Dean. A breeze blew and the branches of the tree stirred.

"That was a sign; she likes what you did for her." Dean could not help but smile. "Let's go back to the house. I am becoming very hungry."

"Dean," Castiel said suddenly. He caught his friend's arm, making the Viking turn around. "Call the Althing. I want to take the oath."

* * *

The yard was full of people, the wooden benches occupied by Dean's warriors. The rest who could not find a seat stood behind the benches. Dean was sitting in a tall chair with his sheathed sword in his lap, his smile peaceful and pleased.

Castiel appeared in the yard. He was bare-chested, his new pants, which Dean's servants had sewn for him, fitting perfectly. The Saxon's hair had grown longer and now his beautiful, dark brown locks were reaching his shoulder blades.

All the Vikings were looking at Castiel with immense curiosity; they knew that he was their Jarl's friend and they treated him with respect but still, he was a foreigner to them. They hadn't had too much time to better acquaint themselves with him.

A loud gasp ran through the Vikings as they began to notice that Castiel was bearing Freyja's sign. Dean glanced at Sami, who was standing at his right side. Sami just smirked; he already knew about the whole thing.

Castiel looked around at the whispering people, feeling uneasy. But when he approached Dean's seat, he calmed down when those emerald eyes looked at him fondly. The Saxon knelt before Dean's chair.

"I am Castiel, son of Alric, lord from the Isle of Wight, and I ask you to accept my oath."

Dean's heart beat faster at the sight before him: Castiel kneeling before Dean, chest bare, with a lowered gaze, acknowledging him as his Jarl. It was making his blood boil. Smirking, the Berserk took the sword from his lap and held it by the blade, with the hilt towards the Saxon.

"Take your oath, Castiel."

The Saxon raised his head and placed his hand on the hilt. "I, Castiel, take this oath: that I shall be in the forefront of every fierce battle, forging ahead with my Jarl, my friend, answering to the war-call carrying all of my weapons. I shall protect my Jarl with my life, fight till the last drop of my blood, and gladly die for him in a battlefield. May this sword upon which my hand rests smite me, may I be damned nine times, should I fail to keep this oath." The Saxon then leaned forward and kissed the back of Dean's hand and his sword hilt in turn.

"Castiel, son of Alric, rise!" Dean's voice rang triumphantly.

Castiel stood up and looked at his friend. The Viking's face lit up in a joyful smile. He laughed and wrapped the Saxon in his strong arms. The Vikings roared in celebration.

"You did a good thing, Castiel." Sami placed his hand companionably on Castiel's shoulder.

"I thought this was the least I could do for Dean, after everything he has done for me," Castiel explained, smiling gently.

Dean raised a hand and silence fell. "My brave and fearless warriors," he addressed the Vikings. "We have a reason to celebrate. This evening, I expect all of you at my house so that we may feast." Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel's shoulders.

This time the Vikings let out a deafening roar of approval. Castiel laughed looking at them. "They really do love you, Dean."

"Yes, they do, but they love feasting more than they do me," he joked. "Come on, I should give the orders to my servants to make necessary arrangements."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, enjoy smut ;) Hope you like it, guys :)

Dean's servants were running back and forth with plates, cups, and trays. The table was full of various types of food. Fried and smoked fish, roasted piglets, boiled mutton, different sizes and shapes of meat pies, mounds of cheese and butter, three types of bread, raw and boiled vegetables, various fruits and, of course, flagon upon flagon of ale! Strong, heady ale.

The feast was in full swing. The booming noise from within Dean's house could be heard throughout the entire town. The Vikings, including their Jarl, were drunk, laughing and drinking from horns filled with ale.

The feast's host sat at the head of the table, Sami seated at his right side and Castiel at his left. The Saxon was not used to the strong ale the Vikings brewed; in his homeland he drank much milder ale. After downing one enormous horn of ale, Castiel was already drunk.

The Berserk suddenly stood up. His hand drawing abstract figures in the air, his Vikings watched him with anticipation. Dean hiccupped, grinned, and began to sing.

" ** _When I touch your silky hair_**

**_You say: Stop it, don't you dare!"_ **

The Vikings recognized the old, bawdy song and joined the singing with excitement:

" ** _Blue-eyed maiden, I want you bare!"_**

Dean raised another horn filled to the brim with ale and yelled:

" ** _I squeeze and slap your lovely rear,_**

**_Whisper sweet words, lick your ear."_ **

And again the Vikings roared happily in reply:

" ** _Blue-eyed maiden, wipe your tear!"_**

Dean emptied the horn down his throat and threw it to a servant. He whirled around and stared at Castiel with a stupid grin, giving him a mischievous wink, and roared the next line of the song without breaking eye contact:

" ** _I part your legs and feel your wet heat,_**

**_The sounds you make are wicked and sweet…"_ **

Castiel blushed furiously and deliberately dropped his fork under the table. Sami noticed this flirting and while Castiel remained ducked under the table, he turned to Dean.

"You chose that song on purpose, didn't you?" Sami laughed, leaning closer to Dean's ear, as to be heard over the loud song.

The Berserk nodded with a smirk. "You're quick-witted as always, my friend." They both looked with great interest, although Dean more than Sami, as Castiel continued to fumble around under the table.

"You're making him uncomfortable," Sami chuckled, shaking his head.

Dean waved him off. "He will endure it, do not worry."

The Berserk raised his hand to silence the guests. "What about some arm-wrestling? The gift for the winner will be a fine sword which I brought from Byzantium."

One Viking, a man with a long braided beard, stepped forward. "I am willing, my Jarl."

"Very well, Hakon." Dean greeted him with a raised hand.

"My Jarl, I will also participate," another Viking, Onund, said.

"Clear the table!" the Berserk called to his servants.

As soon as that part of the table was cleared of food, plates, and other utensils, two Vikings sat face to face. Others surrounded them and started placing bets. Castiel, who had already returned to his normal, sitting position, watched them curiously. Dean gave a signal and the contest began.

Cheering, growling, and frustrated shouts sounded from everywhere as the opponents were trying their best to win. At first the scales tipped in Hakon's favor.

"Cas, are you enjoying yourself?" Dean queried, leaning towards his friend.

The Saxon was looking on in interest at what was happening around him and he smiled in agreement. "Yes, my Jarl, I'm enjoying this. Thank you for asking."

Dean frowned at the distant politeness of his voice. "Don't call me that. I prefer it when you call me Dean."

"Yes, my Ja… Dean," Castiel stuttered and smiled gently.

Meanwhile Onund had a chance to take advantage of his opponent's growing arrogance and with a mighty roar he slammed Hakon's hand down against the table top. The defeated Viking cursed and banged his fist on the table in frustration. The winner received many compliments and congratulations. Dean stood up and hugged him.

"Take this, you deserve it," he cheered and handed the promised sword to the winner.

"Thank you, my Jarl. I dedicate this small victory to you." Onund knelt and kissed Dean's hand before returning to his seat, new sword strapped proudly to his belt.

The feasting continued till late into the night. Four hours before dawn, the Vikings finally decided it was time to call it a night. Half of the Vikings had fallen asleep at the table, snoring obnoxiously, and some were being carried out by their more sober friends.

Sami shook Dean, who was snoring gently at the table, before turning to leave his house. "Go to bed." His voice was raspy from all the drinking. He said over his shoulder, "Good night, Castiel."

The Saxon muttered his good bye and stood up, moving among the servants, who had started to clean up all the mess left by the Vikings.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked drunkenly, vision blurring as he stood up.

"I'm going to take a bath. It's too hot here." Castiel explained and walked to the door.

* * *

In keeping with Dean's orders, the servants had to keep the bathing room warm no matter what time. A fire was maintained in the fireplace and a stack of chopped wood stood in the corner. In the center of the room stood a large, round wooden barrel filled with warm, pleasant water.

Castiel took off his newly sewn pants and dropped them on the floor. Then he took a clay jar and poured some water on his body. The Saxon found a bar of lavender soap and thoroughly foamed up every inch of his body. When he was done with washing his body and hair, Castiel crawled in the water, which smelled of wild berries. The water felt divine against his tense muscles. He sighed in relief. He rested his arms on the edges of the barrel and closed his eyes.

The steam from water surface was making him sleepy. He must have dozed off, as he did not hear the door open. An extra pair of clothes joined Castiel's on the floor.

"Dreaming of me?" The low growl so close to his ear managed to drag the Saxon from his sleep with a surprised yelp. Dean was sitting in front of him in the water, his face inches away from Castiel's.

"But when..." the Saxon was interrupted by his lips being caught in a hungry kiss. "Dean..." Castiel moaned hesitantly when they broke apart, eyes darting nervously towards the door.

"Calm down, no one ever comes here. We're all alone." The Viking pressed his chest to Castiel's. "I have waited for so long to have you in my arms," he moaned against the Saxon's neck, making Castiel relax and slide his fingers through Dean's thick hair. "Mmm... that feels so good Cas, please don't stop," the Berserk groaned at the sensation.

The Saxon smirked and continued to massage his lover's head. Suddenly Dean lunged forward, crashing their lips together and tugging Castiel towards him. The Saxon gasped in surprise when Dean's arms snaked around his waist. He moaned wickedly into the Viking's mouth and wrapped his legs around his waist. The water added more sensuality to their touches.

"Let me wash you, Dean," Castiel requested, nibbling at the Berserk's ear lobe.

"Go on," Dean panted and languidly pulled himself out of the barrel.

Castiel's fingers spread the foam all over the Viking's body, delicately massaging him as the Saxon admired the body in front of him. Dean's chest was heaving, his full lips parted in a soundless moan, begging to be kissed. As the Saxon soaped up his back and legs, he massaged every inch, watching as Dean became consumed with a burning lust.

"Oh, Gods, Cas..." the Berserk groaned before playfully slapping the Saxon's bare rear as Castiel bent to collect water from the barrel so that he could rinse his lover. He let his eyes shut as Castiel began to rinse away the soap, but Dean's eyes snapped open again when he felt a hot mouth close over his member, his gaze greeted by those staring blue lakes.

Simply judging by Dean's groans, one could tell that Castiel's tongue was doing some amazing things, making the Viking lose control and pant heavily.

"Stop... Cas just stop..." suddenly Dean rasped and pulled away.

Castiel looked at him, bewildered. "Did I hurt you? Is this not enjoyable?" Castiel was obviously confused.

"No, no, everything you were doing was perfect. I don't want to come. Not quite yet, at least," Dean grinned and pulled Castiel up into a rather steamy hug.

"Get dressed, I want to do this in the house."

* * *

Dean slammed Castiel against the wall. He bit and sucked the Saxon's neck and shoulders, licked his collarbone, and moved towards his abdomen, leaving wet stripes on the way. The Saxon was pinned to the wall and did not have much space or opportunity to do anything at all. He just kept moaning Dean's name and digging his nails into his shoulders as the Viking was kissing and sucking his hipbones.

Suddenly Dean stopped and went to the oak chest, rummaging through it. He pulled a small, glass jar out.

"What's that?" Castiel's gaze fell upon the thing in the Viking's hand.

"You'll see," Dean chuckled and poured a thick substance on his fingers. "Now I want you to relax." He kissed the Saxon's neck and parted Castiel's legs.

Castiel gasped when Dean's finger slowly entered him. The feeling was unusual, but not unpleasant.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" Dean asked gently.

The Saxon gulped and shook his head. He closed his eyes, trying to adjust to the new feeling. After a while, the Viking added another digit. His fingers tenderly stretched his lover, preparing him for something bigger than fingers. When Dean added the third finger and found that secret spot he was looking for that was buried deep inside Castiel, the Saxon could not hold back his loud moan. His head banged against the wall and his body shivered. The Viking quickly slicked his erection and grabbed Castiel's thighs.

"Shhh," he murmured into his lover's ear.

The Viking lifted the smaller man as if he weighed nothing and pinned him to the wall. He guided his erection to the tight entrance and started to push in inch by inch. Castiel just wrapped his legs around his waist more tightly and grabbed Dean's shoulders.

"Deeean…" he let out a long lustful moan when the Viking sheathed fully inside of him. Dean made an animalistic growl and squeezed Castiel's hips. "Move, please," Castiel panted.

The Viking gladly obeyed and began with slow thrusts. Castiel lost himself in the pleasure."Nghhh… Harder, Dean, harder, please!"

The Berserk sped up. His thrusts became harder, faster, and deeper. Castiel's back was sliding up and down the wall with frantic speed. Dean grabbed Castiel's ass and moved towards his bed. He laid him on the bed without letting go for even a moment.

"Mmm Cas," Dean groaned as Castiel caught his face and started to kiss him hungrily. The Saxon placed small pecks all over his face. The Viking growled and grabbed Castiel's legs. He slung them over his shoulders, lifting his hips a little as he leaned forward for better access.

Castiel's moans grew more frequent and louder as Dean's thrusts became wilder. The headboard thumped against the wall mercilessly as the bed creaked loudly.

Castiel felt his orgasm approaching. A few more thrusts and with a sharp cry he came; his nails dug into Dean's back, leaving small bloody traces there.

Dean came a few seconds later, shouting Cas' name. His whole body tensed, heart pounding hysterically. His ears rang as the blinding ecstasy hit him hard. He fell on Castiel, exhausted and panting heavily.

"That... That was incredible," he croaked as Castiel's hand caressed his head.

"Yes. Everything was amazing," Castiel nodded. "Except one thing."

Dean raised his head. "What do you mean?"

Castiel laughed. "We broke the bed."

 


	12. Chapter 12

Little by little, Castiel was getting used to his new home. He liked his new life. It was true that Dean was his Jarl, and yet the Viking never showed him that he was his leader—on the contrary, he treated Castiel with a lot of respect and love. After Castiel took his oath, Dean's warriors accepted the Saxon as one of them, taking him on voyages to different countries, traded with other villages, and letting him help with building or repairing. Despite Dean insisting that he did not have to do all of these things, Castiel merely said he enjoyed participating in everyday life.

It was the last month of autumn and the harvest was gathered and stored, the cattle had been provided with sufficient food for the long winter, and the days were becoming shorter and gloomier. Summer warmth was exchanged with cold, chilly weather. It rained a lot at this time of year. Nature was in a depressing mood.

Castiel giggled, waking from his sleep when a wet tongue licking up his side. He mumbled something and shifted in the sheets, but didn't open his eyes, as the tongue continued to tease him. Castiel yelped when it started to tickle his abdomen, before rolling onto his side and gazing happily at Dean, who was leaning on his elbow, his other hand resting upon the animal skin cover.

"Good morning, sleepy head." The Viking chuckled and placed a small peck on Castiel's lips.

"Moooorning," Castiel yawned, stretching.

"Remember, we have to go to see Sami today." Dean reminded Castiel as he wrapped his arm around the other's waist and tugged him closer.

"It's too early. I want to sleep. Thanks to you, I'm not getting nearly enough sleep," Castiel grumbled in a fake complaining tone.

Dean huffed. "Was it me who was begging "harder, faster, don't stop" last night?"

Castiel opened his mouth to make a witty reply when thunder rolled and lightning flashed in the sky. The sound shook the earth. Castiel unwillingly jumped in the bed.

"It is simply Thor battling the Jotuns; when Mjolnir strikes them, they shatter into pieces, making horrific noises, and depart this world with a flash of light. So no need to be so frightened, princess." The Viking chuckled when Castiel gave him an incredulous look.

"I am not a princess. It was just unexpected and I assure you, I am not frightened a bit." The Saxon tucked his hands under his head, looking at his lover with a faint smile dancing on his lips.

"Of course, that's why you almost jumped on me. But I'm not complaining," Dean huffed and tugged Castiel closer.

"What does Sami want?" Castiel asked, yawning.

"He received an important message from his friend and wants to discuss it with us," Dean replied, half asleep.

"But he couldn't come here to tell us?"

"He brewed ale and wants us to taste it." Dean's eyes snapped open when the Saxon slid his hand between his legs with a devilish smirk. "Whoa…" The Viking returned the grin. "Hmm, I like that idea. We still have time, so, why don't we use it? Come on…" The Viking pulled his lover into another kiss.

"I don't want this rain to stop. I don't really want to leave this bed either." Castiel laughed as he straddled Dean's lap.

* * *

By the time Dean and Castiel left the house to go visit Sami, the rain had stopped. It had left a lot of puddles in the paths. The sea raged and bellowed, high, heavy waves crashing onto the shore.

"Most of the fish are deep down in the waters now," Dean mused, looking out at the wrathful sea. Castiel followed his gaze; the waves were leaving white foam on the shore.

"I wonder what made Njord so angry," the Viking muttered to himself.

"Who?" Castiel asked, straining his ears.

"Njord is our sea and wind god," explained Dean. With these words they reached Sami's house. The door burst open and Sami's eight year old son Olaf ran out, singing merrily.

"Olaf, may the Jotuns take you, where are you going?" Dean heard his friend yelling.

"Making your father angry?" The Berserk shouted after the boy, laughing out loud.

"Uncle Dean!" The boy squealed and ran towards Dean.

"Hello, Castiel." The boy waved to the Saxon as Dean picked him up and ruffled his blond hair. At that moment, a very pissed off Sami appeared in the doorway, but his angry face softened instantly when he saw his guests.

"I am glad to see you. Come in, what are you waiting for?" He laughed as he invited them inside.

"Uncle Dean, uncle Dean, may I hold your sword, please?" Olaf begged, still in Dean's arms.

"Olaf, he is your Jarl, not your uncle, how many times do I have to tell you!" Sami growled.

The boy blushed and lowered his gaze. "I am sorry, my Jarl," he apologized in a whisper.

"Sami, don't frighten your boy," Dean reprimanded his friend.

"He should know from his childhood how to respect his Jarl," Sami said strictly.

"Hey, you know what? Come to my house tomorrow and I will teach you how to fight with a sword. What do you say?" Dean suggested as he put the boy down.

Olaf looked at his father pleadingly. Sami gave a frustrated sigh before nodding, making the boy squeal again from joy.

"Thank you, my Jarl." He kissed Dean's hand.

"Alright, go and play outside now, and don't do anything stupid," Sami sighed, patting the boy's head.

"Yes, father." Olaf nodded to the men and ran outside.

"He will be a great warrior, Sami. He's like you," Castiel said with a smile.

"I hope that the Gods blessed me," Sami laughed gently. "Come to the table, we can talk during our breakfast."

Sami's wife Herdis came into the room. She was a beautiful, slender woman with long reddish hair. She politely greeted her guests and started to set the table with boiled eggs, butter, cheese, milk, newly baked bread, and hot porridge that made everyone's stomach growl.

Dean rested his elbows on the table. "So, what did the message say, Sami, and when did you receive it?"

"The raven flew in last night from the Danes, carrying a message from my friend Ake. It said that their Jarl Gunter will be coming to our lands in the second month of this coming winter."

"What does he want? Did the message say?"

"No, it was a short message. But I have a feeling that it is a serious matter." Sami brushed his beard with his fingers thoughtfully.

"Maybe he has some kind of a proposal for you?" suggested Castiel.

"Only the Gods know," Dean replied shortly and resumed drinking his ale. "In the name of Odin and Thor, this is the best ale I have tasted in years!" Dean exclaimed. "How did you brew it? Did you use any special ingredients? Different techniques?" Dean could not hide his amazement.

Sami laughed and punched him jokingly in the shoulder. "I used the old recipe, left from my great grandfather."

"No wonder it's amazing. Our old people always knew much more than us," Dean shook his head.

Time passed quickly. The men spent four hours discussing warfare, strategy, and their newest plans. Castiel listened carefully most of the time and sometimes he expressed his opinions, made suggestions, and gave advice when he was asked. The fifth hour had begun when Sami's wife entered the room.

"I am sorry to bother you, my guests, but I think Olaf is missing," she said with a nervous voice.

Sami stared at her. "What do you mean 'missing'?"

"I sent him to fetch water two hours ago and he has not come back yet; at first I thought he was playing with the other children, but now I'm very concerned." Herdis' voice trembled.

The three men looked at each other.

"Do not worry, we will find him," Dean assured her as he stood up. The rest of the men followed his example.

* * *

They searched everywhere, but could not find the boy. Sami started to worry and his wife was in tears; Olaf was their only child. They asked people passing by about the boy but no one had seen him. Suddenly a little girl with a soot-stained face and a rag doll in her hands tugged at Castiel's cloak.

"Are you looking for Olaf?" she chirped.

Castiel squatted in front of her and smiled kindly. "Yes, child, have you seen him?"

The girl nodded and pointed her finger towards the beach. "He said he wanted to gather sea shells to make a necklace for his mother."

"What is your name, child?" Castiel ruffled her hair gently.

"My name is Kadlin. Are you Castiel?" Her aquamarine eyes looked at him with childish curiosity. The Saxon nodded. "I like you Castiel. You have a good heart," she said with unusual seriousness for someone of her age.

Castiel laughed and searched his pockets, finding some raisins. "Thank you, Kadlin. Here, take these." Castiel put the raisins into her small hand.

The three men ran towards the beach. The beach was empty. The only sound was the enormous waves roaring as they crashed onto the shore. Thunder clouds stretched over the sea in black rows. Sami and his friends were calling for Olaf, but their voices were swallowed by raging wind.

"What if he was here and already left?" Dean suggested.

"I guess we should return. Maybe he is already with Herdis," Sami replied as he turned around to return to his house.

"I'm sure he's fine, don't worry. Cas, come on, let's go." Dean turned to the Saxon, but did not see him. "Cas?" Dean turned around, only to see that Castiel was running towards the sea, pulling his cloak and tunic off, his sword forged by Gardar on Dean's special request already on the sand. "Cas! Castiel!" Dean yelled frantically as his lover dived into the frozen water. Sami and Dean ran towards the waves.

"Sami, let me go!" Dean was trying to break free from his friend's grip.

"Dean, stop it. The gods sent down madness upon him. You cannot save him!" Sami fell down, bringing Dean down with him.

"Cas!" Dean screamed as he struggled against his friend's hold.

Castiel dived into the sea and began to swim through the waves. The waves crashed over him, tugging him down to the bottom. His heart pounded and he felt horrible fear spreading through him as he sank into the darkness, but he managed to surface.

"Olaf!" he yelled and swam towards the screaming boy.

"Castiel, help me! Please!" the boy screamed desperately.

"I'm here, I'm here, don't be afraid." A wave hit him and he disappeared into the water once again. Castiel snorted and spat the salty water as he surfaced and grabbed the boy. "Hold on, Olaf," he rasped and gathered all his strength as he fought the wrathful sea.

Sami and Dean could not believe their eyes. The sight was shocking. Castiel crawled out of the water and carried the boy in his arms. Olaf was clutching Castiel, not willing to let go. Castiel was breathing heavily, his pants dripping with water. The Saxon put the boy down gently and wrapped his cloak around the child's thin body before falling to his knees, exhausted.

Sami was too astonished to utter a word. After he released his son from an embrace, he took his sword and cut his palm without uttering a sound. Castiel recognized the blood-oath ritual and smiled, following Sami's example and cutting his own palm.

"You are my blood brother from now on, Castiel. I swear to all the Gods that I will share the good and bad times with you, and your enemy shall be my enemy as your friend shall be my friend!" Sami reached his hand to Castiel. The Saxon repeated the words and took Sami's hand. Their blood mingled and Sami smiled, his eyes watering as he hugged the Saxon gratefully.

"Thank you for saving my son. May the gods bless you for this."

Castiel patted the Viking's back. "No worries, Sami."

Sami looked at Dean, who was still slightly confused. "Take Castiel home so he can change and return to my house. I need to celebrate my son's survival." Sami gave the cloak back to Castiel and picked his boy up before he slowly walked away.

"Dean, are you alright? Look at me." Castiel touched his lover's cheek, making the Viking gave him a dazed look.

"You really are trying to kill me, aren't you?"

Castiel did not answer. He shivered violently. Dean picked the cloak up and wrapped it around the Saxon's shoulders. With a sigh he pulled Castiel into a hug and rested his chin on his shoulder. After a lingering silence, he kissed Castiel's blue-tinted lips.

"Let's go, you need to change. I don't want you falling ill again."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things. One - In this chapter two new characters will enter the story who will play major parts in the next chapters. Two - Things will get dramatic from the following chapters.

A woman's body trembled on the white snow. Rough ropes had left red marks on her wrists and ankles. Freezing cold and terrifying fear made her shake nonstop.

"Please, I beg you, don't do this," she wept as she tugged at the ropes.

A figure in a dark, hooded cloak was standing in a circle. A pale hand finished writing a runic spell that shone in red symbols on a white surface.

The figure stepped out of the circle and walked towards the woman. A strong hand gripped the poor woman's hair and dragged her towards the circle.

"For the love of the Gods, in the name of our father Odin, have mercy!" The victim wept as she was dropped mercilessly on the ground.

The voice began to sing:

" _I summon thee, child of evil,_

_Whose anger never stops,_

_Come forth, from the veil of darkness_

_Bless me with your black heart…."_

The voice sang the incantation and the body moved in a strange dance. The knife kept drawing unknown and ancient symbols in the air, while its owner sang in a trance:

" _Child of fire, born from delusion,_

_Cast your eyeless gaze at me,_

_Spread your venom in my soul,_

_Lend me your blinding rage…"_

With these words the hooded figure straightened and turned to the victim. The knife hissed through the air and stabbed the woman in the heart. Her screams faded after a short lived struggle. The hand pulled the knife out.

" _I summon thee, rise, rise from the abyss…"_ the voice screamed.

The ground started to quake. Somewhere in the distance, wolves howled. The snow started to melt and the ice cracked.

The ominous laughter lingered in the night air.

* * *

A man in his early forties was sitting at a table. He was sipping red wine from a silver goblet. He was handsome with long, light brown hair and grey eyes. He tapped his fingers on the table.

"Oh, brother, what makes you so thoughtful?" A voice like a clear spring purled. A woman of rare beauty stopped at the table and glanced at the man. Her raven black curls were reaching her slender waist and her black eyes glittered with mischievous sparks. A red gown defined the paleness of her skin. Her lean fingers adorned with precious rings held a similar goblet, also filled with fine wine. "This is a good deal, trust me," she went on. "You need a strong ally in their land and he is the best option. He and his warriors are famous even in your lands." She sipped the drink.

The man stood up and paced back and forth. He frowned, his face expressing worries. "There is something in this plan that makes me concerned. But I cannot understand what it is." His deep, pleasant voice filled the chamber.

The woman softly laughed. Her white teeth flashed. "I assure you, there is nothing to be worried about." She approached the man and held his chin. Her full lips parted in a smile. "Trust me, Gunter. I know what I am saying."

The Danish Jarl moved away from her awkwardly. He drank the remaining wine and put the goblet on the table. "What if he refuses? He does not need my help, I just need his."

The woman sat on a bench. Her dark eyes studied the man in front of her carefully. "Do you really think he will be able to refuse?" Her voice was like a calm sea.

Gunter stared at his sister. Her unruffled composure and easy speech stirred his suspicions even more.

"No," he said finally.

"He will not refuse, considering the gifts he will receive. Only a fool can refuse when Fire Island is offered, with its famous Dragon Castle." The woman laughed gently and stood up. "Very well, Gunter. Two more weeks left till we go to Norway."

"We?" Gunter's eyes widened.

She laughed at his surprise and clapped her hands. "Yes, my dear brother. I am coming with you."

"But, Gunda!" the man exclaimed.

"No buts, Gunter. I am coming and that is final. I think we have discussed everything. I will go and tell my servants to start preparations for our trip." She patted his cheek and with a sly smile walked away.

Gunter moved to the table and leaned on his hands. "I hope I am not making a mistake," he mumbled.

* * *

Times were bad. Everyone fought for authority. Rivals did not disdain even the dirtiest tricks to get rid of their opponents. Gunter, the Danish Jarl, needed allies in Norway. From reliable sources, he knew that his enemies were hiding in Norway and had insidious plans. He needed a strong ally there. And Dean the Berserk was the best option. His name was famous in other countries too.

Gunter's sister had arrived three days ago at his house, when she heard the newest story about his brother being attacked by his rival's men. Before the men were executed, they confessed that their Jarl Asvald had sent them. Asvald himself was hiding in Norway.

After seeing his brother in such a state, Gunda suggested that he should make an ally with the Norwegian Jarl, Dean. Gunter told his men to send a messenger raven with a short note about his visit. But the message did not say the reason why he was visiting Dean.

With each passing day, Gunter felt uneasy. His instincts screamed he was making a big, irremediable mistake, but he brutally suppressed them. The trip had to be made. It was his only option.

The waves tenderly licked the bottom of the ship. A flock of seagulls flew over the ship, screaming. Their cries made Gunter flinch. "I cannot explain why I feel like this. If I am making a mistake, please give me a sign." The man looked up at the grey sky that was promising snow. The sign never came.

The next day, at dawn, they were sailing to Norway to make an allegiance with the Norwegian Jarl. By that time, the raven presumably would have reached its destination, bringing them the important message.

Gunter turned to leave and found himself face to face with his sister. He gasped in surprise. "I did not hear you coming."

Gunda flashed her white teeth in a wide smile. "I can walk without a sound. I am like a cat."

Gunter laughed at the comment. "True. You have a habit of sneaking up on people unexpectedly."

"Thinking about our trip?" Gunda glanced at the ship.

"Yes. Let's hope everything goes well as planned." Gunter was contemplating the horizon.

"It will, brother, it will." Gunda's eyes lit up again and a mysterious smile danced on her lips as she walked towards the castle.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean the Berserk, Sami, Castiel, and Ulvhat, together with the hundred Vikings, stood on the beach, looking at the slowly approaching ship.

The Vikings in the ship rowed synchronously and slowly, but steadily approached the Norwegian Jarl. They thanked their deities for the safe trip.

"He is a very handsome and strong man," Gunda said, looking at Dean. She was standing beside her brother.

"I don't care about his good looks, his aid is more important," Gunter chuckled.

Gunda stared at Castiel. "Who is this man? He does not look like a Viking."

"If I am not mistaken, his name is Castiel. Dean's Saxon friend," Gunter answered carelessly.

"Castiel?" her voice lowered.

"Yes. Why are you asking, did he catch your attention?" Gunter glanced at her insinuatingly.

"Oh no," Gunda laughed softly and waved him off. "He just looks interesting and different from Vikings."

The ship stopped and the Vikings set the boarding plank. Gunter walked on it first and helped his sister get off of the ship.

Dean stepped forward to meet his guests. "Welcome to my lands, my dear guests." The Berserk smiled. Dean and Gunter greeted each other by putting their right hands on each others' shoulders.

"My people and I want to thank you for your kindness, Dean the Berserk," Gunter said gently. "This is my sister, Gunda, lady of Fire Island and Dragon Castle."

"I am glad to meet you, Dean the Berserk, I have heard a lot about you. Your name is very famous," Gunda's voice murmured.

"Lady Gunda, I am pleased to welcome you at my house." Dean took her hand and kissed it. Sure, he was a Viking, but he knew about customs and traditions of other people and respected them.

"Let me introduce you to my friends, Sami and Castiel."

Both men nodded politely to Gunter and kissed Gunda's hand.

"You must be tired from this long trip, please rest for a few hours before we meet at dinner, where we can discuss the aim of your visit." Dean gestured towards his town, inviting them in.

"I have made the necessary arrangements so you can rest comfortably," Dean said as his Danish guests started to walk towards the entrance of the town.

* * *

Dean had separate houses built for special occasions when he had visitors coming. When the guests were accommodated and Dean left to tell his servants about dinner, Sami and Castiel stopped in front one of the stables.

"They do not look like siblings. Their hair and eyes are too different." Sami's brows furrowed.

"Yes, I have noticed it as well. Gunter seems to be kindhearted and sincere while his sister… she's… she's…." Castiel was lost for words.

"Eerie?" helped Sami.

Castiel nodded. "I believe that is the word to describe her. There is something in her eyes that frightens me."

Sami huffed and brushed the snowflakes off of his long hair. "I do not like this visit. My stomach is twisting from suspicions," he added.

"We can find out soon what they want. Damn snow." Castiel cleaned his cloak and puffed into his frozen hands.

* * *

"My lady, you are so beautiful in green!" Gunda's servant handed her a mirror so she could admire herself.

She was wearing a long, dark green gown with wide sleeves. A golden belt defined her slim waist and a low cut of her dress showed her full, round breasts.

Gunda laughed with satisfaction. She knew she was very attractive.

"What do you think Dalla, which necklace and earrings should I wear?" she asked her servant.

Dalla opened a small silver box for jewelry. "These will look beautiful, my lady." She took out a necklace and earrings with rubies.

"Mmm, I like your choice. Help me with them."

The servant gave her mistress an adoring look. "You will make even Freyja jealous."

"What did you say?" Gunda hissed suddenly. Her eyes turned into sharp ice instantly.

"I am sorry my lady. I beg for your forgiveness." Dalla shrank and almost curled into a ball.

"Out of my sight, stupid wench!" Gunda exclaimed. Dalla bowed and hurriedly left the room.

Gunda angrily dropped the mirror on the bed. "Silly bitch, she always ruins my mood," she growled and straightened her belt.

* * *

The table was set for fifty people. Dean, Sami, and Castiel were waiting for their guests. Gunter and his men entered the chamber. The host greeted them politely.

"Where is lady Gunda? Will not she attend the dinner?" Dean asked.

Before Gunter could reply, the doors opened and Gunda entered the chamber. The public gasped. She walked in with slow, but victorious steps towards the waiting host and her brother.

"You look very beautiful, lady Gunda." Dean nodded to her.

"Thank you, my lord," she smiled and shyly lowered her gaze.

"Please, my guests, have a seat." Dean motioned them to the table.

Gunter and Gunda took seats beside Dean. Sami sat beside Castiel. The Berserk gave a sign and the servants walked in with platters of food.

"Everything looks so delicious," Gunda murmured while looking at the various assortments.

"My cooks are very skillful," Dean laughed.

"I can see that there are a lot of dishes not known to us," Gunter cut in.

"Yes, I liked some of the foreign dishes while I traveled and brought the recipes so my cooks could make them too. Why don't you try the chicken in blueberry sauce?" Dean offered the mentioned food to Gunda.

"Thank you, you are so kind." Gunda put some chicken on her plate.

"To our guests!" Dean made a toast and raised his goblet.

Sami and Castiel raised their goblets and drank the wine.

Dean turned to his guest. "So what brings you to my land, Gunter?"

Gunter cleared his throat awkwardly and put his goblet down. "You know how hard the times are. My enemies are weaving a dangerous web to catch and get rid of me. From reliable sources, I have found out that they are hiding in Norway. And I need a good, strong ally here. You are the strongest among the Jarls," Gunter explained.

Dean rubbed his forehead. He knew that the political situation in the kingdom of the Danes was difficult. The Jarls were fighting for power and sudden murder was a commonplace thing.

"Let's say I agree to it. What will it give me?" Dean asked after a lingering silence.

Gunter cleared his throat once again. "We are offering you Fire Island with its famous Dragon Castle. And you can marry my sister Gunda."

Castiel nearly choked on his drink. He blushed and apologized.

The Berserk opened his mouth, but was not able to utter a word. Gunda looked around and laughed gently to improve the situation. "I am sure our host is pleasantly surprised with the offerings and is overwhelmed with emotions. No need to hurry, we have lot of time."

Dean was glad that he did not have to answer right away, so he nodded with a confused smile.

The rest of the dinner went on in an awkward silence.

* * *

Castiel was very nervous. He could not sleep. He looked at Dean, who was sleeping and snoring softly beside him. Dean's words that he would refuse his guests did not give him much comfort. The Saxon did not like Gunda and the way she kept looking at Dean, like she was trying to devour him. He could not forget the chilling cold coming from her when he took her hand for a kiss at their first meeting.

"Dean, I am worried," he whispered while he caressed his lover's hair.

He shifted in the bed and snuggled closer to Dean. The Viking hummed gently when Castiel's lips touched his neck.

"I hope we stay together," he murmured and wrapped his hand around Dean's waist.

The morning after the Danish guests arrived, Ulvhat fell ill.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the drama begins....

"Time is pressing. The sun eclipse is in fourteen days. You do not have much time!" Angry hissing filled the room.

"Forgive me, my mistress, but I cannot convince him. He seems to be quite steadfast against my beauty and compliments," another voice spoke humbly.

Ugly laughter snapped like a whiplash. "I thought you were cleverer than this." The dark shadows danced on the wall. "You need to get closer to him. Think of something where he will be able to hold you and feel your body warmth."

"I have thought of something. But it will not be enough," the humble voice spoke again.

"Good. Take this." A small glass jar with a green liquid fell on the carpet. "Massage your whole body and face with this. And remember, he must kiss you before the dawn. You will not have another chance. This is only a one time spell."

"And what will it do to him?"

"He will see only you, listen only to your words, and do whatever you tell him."

"Yes, my mistress. That will be wonderful."

"Don't fail or you know what happens," the voice said strictly.

"I will not."

"Good."

The black smoke dispersed, leaving a kneeling body in the circle of lit candles.

* * *

At breakfast, Sami told Dean that wild boars tried to sneak into the town and the fences had to be repaired in some places. And that was when Gunda suggested they go hunting for wild boars.

"I am sure this hunt will be very successful. Boars during this time are covered with extra thick fur and their meat is very delicious," she said while licking honey off of her fingers.

"I see lady Gunda is familiar with hunting?" Dean could not hide his surprise.

"She is a great hunter. Better than me," Gunter laughed gently.

"Oh, brother, you are flattering me." Gunda covered her mouth shyly and chuckled.

"What have you hunted, lady Gunda?" Dean asked curiously.

"Wild animals. Deer, bears, boars, wolves. Sometimes foxes and hares. But mostly I enjoy bear and boar. I hunt regularly when I am on Fire Island." Gunda's eyes sparkled.

"So, lady Gunda, you hunt only animals?" Castiel put his goblet down and stared at her without blinking.

She sensed the meaning behind the words. Her mouth stretched into a sly smile. "I hunt whatever I must, lord Castiel. And I always get my prey," she nodded politely to Castiel. But the Saxon saw the hate behind her forced amiability.

Dean either did not notice or pretended he did not see this small incident and clapped his hands. "Well, we have a plan for today then. As lady Gunda suggested, we will go to hunt wild boars."

* * *

At noon Dean, Sami, Castiel, Gunter, and Gunda went to the woods. They took twelve dogs and servants with bows who would help them in hunting. All five of them were armed with spears, as it was the best weapon to kill a wild boar.

The dogs were barking and trying to break free from the servants. The horses were snorting and obediently walking in the snow.

Sami, Castiel, and Gunter were behind Dean and Gunda. The Danish Jarl was explaining how they caught foxes back in his lands.

"I wish everyone was as friendly and generous as you are," Gunda said while looking at Dean.

The Viking brushed his thoughts away and glanced at her. "What do you mean, lady Gunda, everyone at my house and town is very happy to see you."

"Not everyone, milord. I hope you don't mind if I call you milord instead of Jarl." She gave a small laugh.

"As you wish. But who do you mean, who does not like you?"

Gunda hesitated, not sure if she should mention the Saxon. "Castiel," she whispered finally.

Dean pulled the reins and his horse stopped. "Why do you think so?" He stared at her questioningly.

Gunda thought for a short while before answering. "I think he does not like when I am near you. Maybe he does not trust me and my brother."

Dean thanked all the deities when dogs started to bark, sensing the smell of a boar. "Unleash them!" he ordered.

The dogs whined and ran forward. The riders could hear the animal's squealing.

"Get your spears, the boar is near!" Dean grabbed his weapon.

Everyone got ready, archers held their bows waiting for the animal.

They did not need to wait for a long time. A brown boar, almost as big as a bull, raced from the woods. His dagger sized sharp fangs broke the small bushes on its way.

"Shoot!" Dean commanded and the arrows hissed through the air.

"What in Odin's name is this?" Sami gasped when the arrows rebounded off of the boar's thick skin.

"Something is not right, here." Castiel was holding a spear in his right hand, while with another hand he was patting his horse, trying to calm the animal. The horse was neighing, frightened and rearing.

Dean's spear shared the same fate as the arrows. The boar attacked Gunda's horse with a deafening squeal. Its fang slashed the horse's chest. The beautiful black mare reared, neighed horribly, and fell on the ground, bringing Gunda down with her. The boar disappeared through the woods with unbelievable speed.

Dean was the first one to react. He dismounted his horse and kneeled beside Gunda.

"Lady Gunda, are you alright?" he slightly slapped the unconscious woman.

Her raven black hair spread like the moonless, night sky. Dean unlaced her cloak and parted the edges. Gunda's neck and breasts were as white as the snow underneath them.

The Viking hesitated, not knowing what to do. Then he lowered his head and pressed his ear to her heart.

Dean straightened and gulped nervously. "Call the dogs back, take her horse to the stable, and treat the wound. I will take her to the house myself." Dean picked her up and mounted the horse.

"Thank you Dean, you are very generous," Gunter said beside him.

"No worries. I have good healers. They will help her recover in no time," the Viking answered as he held her tight against his chest.

Dean and Gunter rode in front while Sami and Castiel lagged behind them deliberately.

The Saxon was feeling horrible. His whole world was breaking into pieces right in front of his eyes.

"I am so sorry. I don't know what to say," Sami mumbled apologetically. He could feel the pain Castiel was feeling.

"It's alright. You do not need to worry about this. It's…" Castiel hissed and groaned in pain.

"Are you alright?" Sami held his horse.

"I don't know, something is hurting me," Castiel winced in pain and grabbed his arm. "It's in my left arm." He looked down at his hand when he felt a sticky substance. Both men gasped. Castiel's hand was covered in blood.

"Are you wounded? Let me see your arm." Sami helped the Saxon take the cloak and tunic off.

Sami's eyes widened when he saw a bloody sign on Castiel's arm. The mark was shining with a golden light and bleeding. The Saxon was stunned too.

"Castiel, Freyja is giving you a sign. She is warning you. Your relationship with Dean could be in danger."

"I don't know what to do. With each passing day, Dean is becoming estranged from me." Castiel lowered his head.

"I have suspicions about Gunda and we will find a way to fix things." Sami put his hand on Castiel's shoulder in support. "Now, let's get back to the town."

* * *

Dean was sitting in his chair under the crossed axes. His head was reeling from all the thoughts that filled it, about Gunder's proposal and the hunting incident. The hall was lit by torches. It was late and he was alone, sitting in the silence. He raised his head when the door creaked. He saw a figure in a long cloak slowly approaching his seat.

"Lady Gunda? What are you doing here? And why are you barefoot?" the Viking stood up from his chair.

"I came to thank you, Dean," Gunda murmured.

"But the healer said you needed to rest. You are too weak from hunting."

Gunda graciously approached Dean. "I assure you, I am fine." She tenderly touched his cheek.

Dean flinched at the touch and moved his head to the side.

"As I said, I came to thank you." She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

"What are you doing?" Dean pushed her away gently.

"Do not resist me, Dean. I know you want me." Her voice was like honey. "You know you want to touch and caress my body," she purred and unlaced her cloak. The black velvet fell to the floor, revealing her naked, goddess like body.

"What…" Dean gasped at the sight.

"Shhh, come here," she held his head and pressed it against her firm breasts. "You want this body, I know you do. You want to taste my lips, kiss me all over," she murmured again.

Her body scent was heady and delicious. Dean's mind screamed to push her away, while his senses were shouting to touch and taste her. The Viking put his hands on her hips and picked her up. He carried her to the table.

Gunda smiled victoriously and closed her eyes while Dean's hands started to roam over her body, caressing her shoulders, neck, and full breasts.

"Kiss me," she whispered into his ear lustfully.

"Dean, your horse just gave a birth to a love…" Castiel stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him.

Dean the Berserk was kissing and biting naked Gunda's neck, while the woman was lying and writhing on the table. Gunda opened her eyes and looked at the Saxon. They were full of triumph, mockery, and something else unreadable.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More drama...

Castiel froze in the doorway. The happiness from the joyful news wiped off of his face. "Dean…" His voice broke.

The Viking raised his head and looked at the Saxon with a cloudy gaze. The eyes that looked at Castiel were a madman's eyes. Castiel's breath hitched from pain: Dean's eyes showed the final estrangement.

Gunda weakly pushed Dean away and rose off of the table. "Please, forgive me," she said with a fake shyness and went to pick up her cloak. She wrapped herself in it and with a panther's grace walked to Dean.

"We have not finished, Dean," she whispered, passionately close to the Viking's ear. "We will continue later." Gunda nodded to the men with a sly smile and left the chamber.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Castiel rasped. His face expressed utter astonishment.

The Viking was leaning on the table. He raised his head and stared at the Saxon.

"What am I doing?" he asked calmly.

"Yes, you and Gunda. What are you doing? You tell me you love me while behind my back you are kissing that woman?" The Viking fell silent. He just listened to Castiel. "You said you would refuse the offer and now what? You almost fucked that whore!"

Dean banged his fists on the table. "Do not say such things about her!"

Castiel arched his brows in amazement. "Oh, really? Am I not speaking the truth? She parted her legs for you like a whore and, who knows, maybe you would have fucked her if I had not walked in on you!" the Saxon shouted anxiously.

Dean whirled around sharply and threw an angry look at Castiel. "She was right about you. You hate her."

"That woman brings misfortune. She has messed up your mind, can't you see it? I do not trust her!"

"Enough! Stop accusing her!" Dean suddenly roared, enraged.

Castiel flinched at the yelling and swallowed a lump in his throat. "But you don't understand, Dean…" he started, but the Viking's rude shouting cut him off.

"I am not your Dean! I am your Jarl! Should I remind you?"

Castiel felt cold sweat covering his back. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"It was a mistake," Dean said coldly.

Castiel managed to gather strength to ask: "What was a mistake?" he mumbled.

The Viking stared into his eyes. "Us. Our relationship."

The Saxon's face grew deathly pale. He stared at the dying fire in a torch. Astonished and mortified by pain, he lost his ability to speak.

Castiel silently turned around and left the chamber with quick steps.

* * *

"In the name of the holy Yggdrasil and its nine worlds, give me some water," a weak voice groaned.

A young woman, who was sitting near a bed, flinched. "Father? How are you feeling?" She put the tunic in her hands aside.

"If you do not give me water, I am afraid I will die of thirst," answered Ulvhat, putting his thin hands upon the animal skin cover.

"Yes, father." The woman ran to the table and poured water in a mug. With quick steps she returned to the bed.

Ulvhat drank the water in a few gulps and leaned against the pillow.

"You frightened me, father. You have never fallen ill." She caressed his white hair.

The sorcerer wiped water drops off of his beard and stared at his daughter with his only eye. "This is not a normal illness, Hilda."

The woman shrugged her shoulders. "What do you mean, father?"

Ulvhat cleared his throat. "My child, a great evil has entered our town. That is the reason for my weakness. I see black clouds gathering above our Jarl's house. But the gods will not show me anything more for the time being."

"Alright, father. Now you rest. You need to get better and recover, so you can walk again."

The sorcerer laughed with bitterness. "No, my child. You do not understand. Until the evil is out of our town, I will not be able to recover."

* * *

The bone-chilling cold was unbearable. Heavy snowflakes were falling from the sky. The wolves howled in the woods, accompanied by the town's dogs whining and crying. Only cold, desperation, and loneliness crawled around.

Castiel walked aimlessly. He did not know where he was going or why. "Hey, Castiel!" he heard a voice call while passing by Gardar's smithy.

The Saxon raised his head and saw two Vikings – Onund and Ragnar.

"Hello," he greeted them.

"Where are you going in such awful weather?" Onund asked him. This was the Viking who won the Byzantium sword in the arm wrestling competition.

"Umm…. Nowhere. Just walking around," Castiel stuttered.

Onund laughed heartily. "Well, if you do not have anything to do, we can go to my house and drink some good ale."

"He always has great ideas." Ragnar winked and patted the Saxon's shoulder.

"So, what do you say?"

The Saxon liked the idea. Strong ale was exactly what he needed right now. Good, heady ale to drown his sorrows in. He wanted to forget everything, even if just for a short while.

"I agree. Nothing is better than good ale."

"Well, what are we waiting for then? Let's go, my friends!" Onund roared happily and led the men to his house.

* * *

It was two hours past midnight. Sami and his wife were sitting by the fireplace. Herdis was combing wool and Sami was cleaning his weapons. In the next room, Olaf was sleeping peacefully.

"My love, can you bring some more firewood?" she asked her husband gently.

"Of course," Sami smiled, kissing her on the lips and going to the door.

It was a moonless night and thick darkness had enveloped the earth. Sami managed to take three steps before he stumbled upon something and almost thudded to the ground.

"What in Odin's name was that?" he swore under his breath. There was a weak groan in reply.

"Herdis, get the lamp quickly!" Sami shouted.

His wife appeared with the oil lamp in the doorway. She looked frightened. "What is it Sami?"

"Bring the light over here," Sami pointed.

When the lamp showed the reason of Sami's stumbling, both the wife and husband could not suppress a cry.

The snow had covered Castiel, who was curled up in a fetal position on the ground in a half unconscious state.

"Castiel? What's wrong?" Sami touched his shoulder.

"Sa….amm….miiiii…" Castiel slurred.

The Viking smelled ale and while looking at the half frozen, heavily drunk Castiel he instantly guessed that something serious had happened.

"Come on, let's get you inside." Sami grabbed Castiel's arms and helped him get up. He wrapped his arm around his waist and carried his friend inside. Sami sat Castiel near the fireplace.

Herdis put the lamp on the table and went to the kitchen corner. She pounded some herbs in a bowl and poured water on them.

"Sami, give him this. It will sober him a little and he will feel better." She handed a bowl to her husband.

"Here, take this and drink." The Viking gave Castiel the bowl.

The Saxon emptied the bowl and leaned his head against the wall behind him.

"Castiel, what happened?" Sami asked, concerned.

Herdis apologized and left the room. She was a clever woman and understood that this had to be discussed between men.

Castiel made the whine of a trapped animal. "I walked in on them," he whispered.

Sami leaned closer to hear better what his friend was whispering.

"Walked in on whom? Who do you mean?"

Castiel looked at his host with eyes full of enormous pain. "Dean and Gunda. He was kissing her and probably would have fucked her if I had not walked in."

Sami made a choking noise. He rubbed his face.

"And then…" Castiel's voice cracked. "We argued. Dean… I mean my Jarl said…." Castiel laughed hysterically, "that our relationship was a mistake." The Saxon's shoulders were shaking from silent laughter.

Sami sat there, dumbstruck. He was staring at the fire. "Hey, look at me." He turned and gently shook Castiel. "We will find a way out of this shitty situation, I promise."

Castiel did not have much hope, but nodded nevertheless. Then he tried to stand up. "I am sorry that I disturbed you so late. I will not bother you anymore."

Sami's hand held him in place. "And where are you going?" he asked Castiel.

The Saxon fell silent. He did not want and could not return to Dean. "I don't know. If I had not taken my oath, I would return to my lands… but then again, I don't have a home there either." He hung his head.

Sami frowned. "Castiel, you are my sworn brother. Do not forget the oath we made. I promised to share good and bad times with you. From now on, you will live at my house." Sami's eyes were full of sympathy and brotherly love.

Herdis walked in the room after checking on her son.

"Herdis, Castiel is going to live with us," Sami informed her.

The woman nodded knowingly and smiled. "You are my husband's sworn brother. You are always welcomed at our house. And Olaf will be very happy. He loves you dearly. I'll go make up a bed for you." With these words, she left them.

Castiel felt warmth spreading in his body. His eyes watered. "Thank you, Sami." He smiled awkwardly.

"This is the least that I can do for you in return," Sami assured him. "Now, let's talk about what is happening to Dean." Sami poked the embers.

"The only thing I can say is that after Gunter and Gunda arrived, Dean has changed a lot, but you know this. You have seen it yourself." Castiel rubbed his hands.

"I have a bad feeling that this woman is a witch. I will send a raven to Ake tomorrow and ask him to gather some tidings about her."

The Saxon nodded. He liked this idea as well.

"Alright, get up and get some sleep." Sami helped Castiel up and walked him into another room. "Olaf probably will lose his mind from happiness tomorrow morning, when he wakes up," Sami chuckled.

Castiel glanced at the sleeping child and smiled himself.

* * *

Ten days passed after Dean and Castiel's encounter. During this time, Dean finally changed past recognition. He did not want to see anyone except Gunda and her brother. The Viking never asked about Castiel, where he was, how he was, or what he was doing.

As to Castiel, his soul and mind were in agony. No one except Sami knew how hard it was for him to look cheerful and carefree, while on the inside he was dying.

"Oh, Castiel, here you are!" Sami quickly approached his Saxon friend.

Castiel was sitting under an old oak tree behind the house and making a wooden horse for Olaf.

His blue eyes glanced at Sami. "What's wrong, Sami?"

"The raven is back from Ake. Come, let's read the news."

They sat around the table. Sami unfolded the lamb skin and began to read:

_"I hail you my Norwegian friend. I tried to gather the tidings which you asked for and here is all I could find out._

_First of all, I want to tell you that Gunda is not Gunter's real sister. Probably you have noticed how different they look from each other. She was found by Gunter's parents in the woods as a newborn child and they raised her as their own, together with Gunter. When she was eighteen winters old, she married Robert, the lord of Fire Island. Three months after the wedding, Robert disappeared without a trace and Gunda became the mistress of the whole island and its castle._

_And now the most important part: try to stay away from her. Gunda is Hel's priestess."_

Unbearable silence filled the room. Only the white cat purred contentedly near the fire place.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is how Castiel deals with his depression.

Due to rains, the knee-high snow melted quickly, leaving slush behind. Everything was muddy. Only pigs were glad and with happy squealing were rolling in the mud. The dogs were barking and chasing them while terrified chickens were running away, cackling.

Castiel avoided a crash with a big, fuzzy dog and went to the town's exit. His always smiling and vivid eyes now looked sorrowful and lackluster. With soundless steps, like a ghost, he sneaked out of the fence and walked towards the beach.

He sat on a wet ground and looked at the horizon. Far away, somewhere in the distance, was his homeland. Castiel thought about his home and his heart felt heavy. Old memories rose up like butterflies caught in an open trunk….

_Castiel hated when his parents were forcing him to sleep at noon. He always protested with squealing and the stamping of his feet, which finally would anger his father, lord Alric, and he would spank his five year old son. After the punishment, Alric would lock his son in his room and he would not leave him until Castiel fell asleep._

_Castiel was lord Alric's and lady Rowena's only child. He was a very polite, curious, and clever boy. Mostly he liked to sit with his father's warriors and listen to various interesting stories. Alric never forbade him this. On the contrary, he liked it. "He will learn what a warrior's life is like from childhood," he would say. The warriors adored little Castiel and spoiled him in every way._

_When noon would come and it was Castiel's time to sleep, lord Alric would go himself to get his son. The warriors would try to hide him, but Alric always could find his son. Tired and annoyed by his son's protests, Alric would bend him over his lap and spank. The warriors, heartsore from Castiel's wailing, were begging their lord to have mercy on the child…._

_Castiel waited a little until his father was gone and crawled out of his bed. He went to the window and looked outside. Alric was on a horse and leaving the yard with some of his warriors._

_The boy crawled out of the window. He turned around and hung on the window-sill, let go of his grip, but could not reach the ground: his shirt got caught on a nail of the window. Castiel panted and floundered desperately to break free, but in vain._

" _Need some help?" a deep voice boomed near his ear._

_Castiel cried out from fear but when he saw Alfred, one of the warriors, he calmed down._

" _Yes, please." Castiel stopped his efforts and stilled._

_Alfred removed Castiel's shirt from the nail and put the boy on the ground._

" _Thank you, Alfred." Castiel wrapped his little arms around the man's legs._

" _You are welcome, my little lord," laughed the man and ruffled his hair._

_Castiel took his shoes off and trotted towards the gates. Despite his begging, the guards did not let him out. Then the boy went behind the manor and to the fence. He moved the twigs and leaves aside and crawled into a small hole. He climbed out on the other side of the fence and ran towards the woods. He heard children's merry cries and yelping. Castiel hurriedly ran towards the noise._

_Three boys, ages 7-8, had tied a rope to a tiny, black puppy's neck and were dragging him back and forth. The puppy was whining pitifully and with its small paws trying to pull the rope over his head._

" _What are you waiting for, let's hang him!" One of the boys kicked the puppy. The poor thing yelped deafeningly._

" _Give me a moment," answered another one and started to tie the rope's another end to a branch._

_Castiel's eyes flashed with anger and his fists clenched. He loved animals dearly and would not allow anyone to harm this poor little thing._

" _Hey! What are you doing? Hands off of the puppy!" he shouted at the boys._

_The boys looked at him mockingly._

" _Who is this?" laughed the tallest one._

" _Hey, you, grasshopper, you better run away as fast as you can before we hang you too," added the other, a red haired boy._

 _Castiel did not back off._ " _I don't think so. I said leave the puppy alone or I will break your nose!"_

" _Come here, you little scrawny thing!" shouted the group's leader and jumped at Castiel. They fell on the ground and rolled around. A thick dust whirled up and covered the fighters. When it cleared away, Castiel appeared first. He was sitting on his rival and punching him in the ribs._

" _Let me go, let me go now!" the defeated boy was yelling. As promised, Castiel had broken his nose._

_Suddenly the red haired boy cried out, frightened. He recognized the symbol embroidered on Castiel's shirt._

" _Are you lord Alric's son?" His voice trembled with fear._

" _Yes, I am Castiel, lord Alric's son. Give me the puppy and I will not tell anyone what happened here." Castiel stood up. His rival followed suit._

" _We are terribly sorry and beg you, do not tell lord Alric that you had this incident with us." The smallest boy in the group looked at Castiel pleadingly._

" _Here is your puppy." The group's leader handed him the rope._

" _Do not worry, I will not tell anyone. But remember, if I see or hear that you are torturing animals again, I will tell my father to whip you!" Castiel said strictly and held the puppy in a tight embrace._

" _We promise you, no such thing will happen," the boys promised._

" _Very well, you can go now." Castiel turned around and walked towards his house._

_He was near the fence when he thought about his appearance. In a hurry, he had left his shoes in the woods; his clothes were torn into pieces. His face and hands were scratched and bruised, covered with mud, and his hair was a mess._

" _Not to worry, the important thing is I saved you." Castiel kissed the puppy on its head and untied the rope from its neck._ " _Let's go, Hector, and be quiet." Castiel crawled into the hole once more._

_As it seemed, lord Alric was already home. His accompanying horsemen were in the yard. And actually it seemed like his father was getting prepared for something as the yard was full of warriors._

_Castiel held the puppy even tighter to his chest and tried to sneak up to his window unnoticed._

" _Castiel!" His father's voice thundered and Castiel froze in place like a heron with one foot in the air. Alaric's voice made everyone forget about everything else and the warriors stared at the child._ " _What happened to you? Where were you? And what are you holding?" Lord Alric walked slowly to his son._

 _Castiel paled and his heart pounded like a drum._ " _Father, please, let me keep Hector." His eyes watered and after a few seconds, he wailed._

 _Alric kept shifting his gaze from his son to the puppy._ " _Where did you find that puppy? What happened to you, why are you in such state?" he asked strictly._

 _Castiel remembered his promise and made up a fresh lie._ " _Outside the yard, near blueberry bushes, there is a big ditch. He had fallen in there."_

" _How did you get out of the yard?" Alric looked at the guards._

" _No, they are innocent. I climbed under the fence," whimpered the boy._

_Alric's face expression was not promising anything good._

" _Lord Alric, please forgive him." Alfred stepped forward. Soon the rest of the warriors joined his request. The boy pleadingly looked at his father._

 _Alric motioned a groom to take his horse away and looked again at his son._ " _Alright, you can keep that puppy."_

_Castiel cried out in happiness and whirled around with the puppy._

" _I have not finished, Castiel," Alric went on._

_The boy stilled with a bad presentiment and gulped nervously._

" _You left your room and went outside the yard. With that you disobeyed two orders. Pull your trousers down."_

 _Alfred went to Castiel and took the puppy from his hands._ " _Be strong, my little lord," he whispered to him in sympathy._

_Castiel whimpered and with trembling fingers started to pull his trousers down….._

The Saxon was withdrawn from his thoughts by a seagull's screaming. The bird was hopping on the beach nearby, pecking some small worms, cast ashore by waves. Castiel stared at the horizon again and sank back into his thoughts….

_Castiel was kneeling in front of the lit fireplace and caressing a dog. He was trying to hold his tears back._

" _Hector, my dear Hector," he was whispering._

" _My darling, do not mourn so bitterly," lady Rowena's sweet voice filled the chamber._

" _But mother, he is dying," Castiel's voice treacherously trembled and he wiped the tears with his fist._

" _Yes, my son. Hector is old. Ten years have passed." Rowena kissed her son's forehead._

" _I do not want him to die." Castiel continued to caress the dog._

" _Castiel, remember, life is not always honey. When everything seems wonderful and you do not expect anything bad, fate tends to strike unexpectedly."_

" _But this is not fair, mother!"_

 _Rowena smiled. She could understand her son's emotions and angst very well._ " _Often in life, with our ignorance or ill fate, we lose the ones we love. Never be sure that you are safe from this. Fight till the end if there is even a small chance to get them back. And even if your efforts prove to be vain, you will be clean in front of your conscience."_

"Mother, you were right as always. Your words came true." Castiel enveloped himself in a cloak and wrapped his arms around his knees….

" _Cas, what happened to you, why are you like this?" The Saxon was greeted by Dean's cheerful voice as he walked into the hall._

 _Castiel was soaking wet and covered in mud._ " _Gardar's bull got stuck in the mud and could not get out. Four of us were trying to pull him out." Castiel shook his hair like a dog._

_Dean was standing in the middle of the hall with a sword in his hand. He was exercising to stay in perfect shape. With a smiley face he approached Castiel._

" _Which bull? The black one?"_

 _Castiel nodded._ " _Yes, an enormous black bull."_

" _Hmmm, you know, I like you wet," the Viking said with a sly smile and held his lover in a vice like grip._

" _Dean, you will get dirty," moaned Castiel when Dean's lips touched his neck._

" _Don't worry about it," hummed the Viking and caught his lips._ " _You are mine, only mine." Dean's hands slid under Castiel's shirt. The Saxon moaned with pleasure when his lover's hot hands started to roam over his back._

" _As you are mine," answered Castiel and invaded Dean's mouth with his tongue._

" _Of course. And no one will ever stand between us." Dean panted and lifted Castiel by grasping his thighs. He carried the Saxon towards the table._

Castiel's body trembled from desire. The heat spread throughout his body. He was staring at the horizon with an absentminded gaze. All of his thoughts danced around Dean. He could not believe that suddenly, Dean thought of him as a stranger.

"I love you, Dean," he whispered and bent his head back. A single tear rolled down his cheek.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, in this chapter we finally see what Gunda's real plans are.

The Vikings were very surprised when Dean called the urgent Althing. They were gathering one by one in the yard and trying to find out the reason of the meeting.

Dean sat in his chair. Gunda and Gunter were sitting behind him.

"Please, stay calm," Sami whispered to Castiel when he saw his friend's pale face.

Dean stood up and raised his hand to silence the crowd. "Sons of Odin, my invincible warriors," he addressed the Vikings. "I gathered you here to deliver some news."

Castiel's forehead covered in cold sweat and he fidgeted.

"I decided to marry the beauty of Fire Island, lady Gunda. The wedding will take place on the island in five days," Dean announced triumphantly.

Castiel's vision blackened and he staggered. Sami's hand saved him from falling. The strong hand grabbed his arm and held him in place. "Castiel, by the name of our brotherhood…" he whispered.

The Saxon gulped nervously and stared at the ground.

"Also, I want to inform you that," Dean went on, "if something happens to me, if I die or by any other reasons I will not be able to lead you, you will move under Gunter's charge."

The wave of disapproval rolled through the crowd.

"We will not acknowledge this foreigner as our chieftain!"

"That is true, we do not want a foreigner!"

"We are against it!"

Sami saw the situation was getting out of control and stepped forward. "Silence!" he yelled.

Everyone calmed down.

Sami approached Dean and leaned forward. "Dean, what are you doing?" he whispered, bewildered.

"What am I doing? I am giving them orders." Dean tapped fingers on the arm of his chair.

"Since when can a foreigner become your substitute?"

"Sami, he is not a foreigner. He will become my relative in five days. And let's stop talking about this."

Sami gave him a penetrating look and gritted his teeth. "I swear to all gods and goddesses of Asgard, I will find out what is happening with you!"

He went back to his place and stood beside the Saxon.

"You can go now. I will choose fifty warriors to accompany me to the island," finished Dean.

The Vikings started to break up. Their angry and disapproving shouts sounded in the yard.

"I suggest you rest. You have a long trip to endure." Dean kissed Gunda's hand. "I am sorry, I must leave you. I have a lot of things to do." Dean apologized and walked away.

As soon as he was out of sight, Gunter grabbed his sister's arm and turned her around rudely. "What does it all mean?" he hissed.

Gunda stared at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about, Gunter?"

The Danish Jarl made some gesticulations, trying to explain more clearly. "All of this. I never asked for his warriors to be under my charge. Can't you see the situation is so tense now?"

Gunda whistled, surprised. "Wow, instead of a thank you, you are disappointed? I thought you would be happy. You needed support, I got you support. What else do you want from me?"

"Gunda, what have you done?" Gunter's voice sounded dismayed. "Dean isn't even recognizable. Even I can see that he has changed and I hardly know him. What have you done to him?" Gunter painfully squeezed Gunda's arm.

The woman's eyes flashed with an evil light. "Let me go. Or do you want to dance to my tune too?" she growled.

Gunter let her arm go and backed off. "I really hope you have not done something stupid!"

"This is not of your concern, Gunter. You got what you wanted. As to how and why, leave that to me. Be careful and don't pry in what is not your business!" Gunda held her dress hems and walked away with an angry face.

Gunter just stared at her, stunned. He grabbed his head with his hands and paced back and forth. A lot of thoughts were mixing in his head. He could not grasp the needed one. Gunter desperately tried to understand what his sister had done, but he could not. Exasperated, he kicked a stone and threw it aside.

* * *

Dean was seeing off his guests. Gunter was onboard the ship and Gunda was standing on the beach, saying good bye to her host.

"Dean, I will be waiting you at Fire Island." She smiled seductively.

"I will not be late," promised the Viking. He took her black curl and inhaled its aroma. "Gunda, when will you lie with me? I want to make love to you. You kept refusing my desires. I cannot wait for eternity." Dean held her tight in an embrace.

"On our wedding night," she whispered promisingly.

"Alright. Five days then. I can wait five more days," the Berserk chuckled and helped her get onboard the ship.

"By our tradition, a wedding lasts three days. What are your plans after the wedding?"

"We will stay for a few more days and then come back to my house. I cannot stay away from home for a long time," Dean said apologetically.

Gunda nodded knowingly. "I understand. We will do as you please."

"I will see you in five days, my lady." The Viking kissed her hand and went onshore.

Gunter gave a sign and the warriors rowed. Little by little the ship disappeared into the distance.

The Berserk looked around and found Sami. "Sami, come to me in the evening. I will give you the names of the men who will come with me to the island."

Sami kept silent.

"What is it? Why are you so crestfallen?"

Sami gave a reprimanding look to his childhood friend. "Dean, I pray that it is not too late when you wake up from your delusive dream, when nothing can be fixed."

Dean opened his mouth for a witty reply, but he was lost for words. "In the evening," he said finally and walked away.

* * *

Sami, Herdis, Olaf, and Castiel were sitting around the table and eating. Olaf did not like boiled mutton, so he tried to remain unobserved and kept throwing the pieces under a table to the cat. The purring animal did not protest at all and ate everything she received from her little master with pleasure. Castiel, despite his depression, could not help but smile at Olaf's mischief.

There was a knock on the door.

"Who is it? Come in," Sami invited the comer.

The door opened and Hilda, Ulvhat's daughter, stepped in.

"Good afternoon," she greeted the people in the room.

"Good afternoon to you too, Hilda. Please, join us." Sami invited her to the table.

"No, thank you. I just came to tell you that my father wants to talk to you and Castiel." Hilda was ready to leave.

"Alright, tell him we will be there shortly," replied Sami.

Hilda nodded and went outside.

"Hm, strange. Ulvhat has never summoned me at his house. I wonder what's happening. And what does he want from you?" Sami glanced at the Saxon.

Castiel just shrugged and huffed. "I don't know, Sami. One strange thing is followed by another. I don't know what to think."

The men ate their food hurriedly and as soon as they were finished, went to Ulvhat.

* * *

The sorcerer was sitting on a bed, his back facing the door. He was staring at the opposite wall.

"Come in, I am waiting for you." His raspy voice filled the room and Sami, who had raised his hand to knock on the door, flinched unwillingly.

The door opened and Sami with Castiel walked in.

"Hello Ulvhat. Hilda told us you wanted to see us." Sami stopped in front of the sorcerer.

The host pointed at the chairs. Castiel and Sami sat on the chairs and stared at Ulvhat silently.

"Only now was I able to leave my bed. The evil left our town, but not without a trace," the sorcerer began with a cryptic voice.

Sami shrugged and coughed. "Can you talk more simply, so we can understand, Ulvhat?"

The sorcerer stared at the Viking persistently as if he was trying to see through him.

"Our Jarl's guests—one of the guests to be precise, Gunda—she is the servant of evil. On the first day they arrived, I noticed this. Her eyes are not the eyes of a mere mortal. The next day, I fell ill. Gunda noticed that I knew about her black soul and she sent down illness upon me. She is very strong; I suppose she has a very powerful protector."

Sami straightened on his chair. "Ulvhat, we know who she is."

"And who is she?"

"She is Hel's priestess. I know this from a reliable source."

The sorcerer slowly stood up. He folded his arms on his chest and started to pace in the room.

"Now I see why she is so powerful." Ulvhat stopped and looked at his guests. "I had a vision. I saw Thor and he ordered me to call you and Castiel. He said that only you can save Dean. I have not seen Dean for a long time and do not know what is happening to him, but I sense that it is not something pleasant. Maybe you can enlighten me and we can figure out this puzzle together."

Sami and Castiel shared a glance.

"What can we tell you?"

"Anything strange that you can recall and think could be related to this whole mess. And also, Castiel, I know about you and Dean's relationship." Ulvhat smiled.

The Saxon blushed furiously and did not know what to do from awkwardness.

"Do not worry. Just follow your heart." Ulvhat put his hand on Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel rubbed his back and began: "I do not know if it is somehow related, but when I was ill and fighting death, I saw a dream where Freyja and Hel fought over my soul. Freyja won this fight and I am alive, as you see."

Ulvhat was listening carefully and combing his beard with fingers. "Very well, now you tell this story once again, but do not forget to mention even a small detail. Maybe it has a very important meaning."

Castiel told the whole story, mentioning every detail as Ulvhat asked.

"Now it is clear. Hel is angry with you, but she can not break her word and can not kill you. But as a punishment, she will do everything she can to make your life miserable." Ulvhat drew his conclusion.

"And how will she do it?" Castiel felt his heart skip a beat.

"Tell me, is Dean acting strange? Do you find it suspicious?" Ulvhat locked his fingers and sat on his bed.

Sami nodded. "We can not recognize him at all. It's like he is a totally different person. After Gunda and her brother arrived, Dean has changed. His mind seems to be in a haze. His words and actions are not typical of him. And now he announced that he wants to marry Gunda."

Ulvhat frowned. "When is the wedding?"

"In five days. Dean will leave for Fire Island with fifty warriors."

Ulvhat stared at the ceiling and started to mumble something. "Dean is in grave danger," the sorcerer announced finally.

"W…wh…at danger?" Castiel stuttered.

"There is the sun eclipse in five days, and also Hel's day. Gunda will try to sacrifice Dean to Hel. The underworld mistress could not get your soul and now she will take Dean's soul instead of yours. And this will be your punishment." Ulvhat looked at the Saxon.

Sami wiped the sweat off of his forehead and asked in a broken voice: "We think that Dean is under Gunda's spell. We can not find any other reason for his strange words and behavior. What do you think, Ulvhat?"

The sorcerer sighed. "You are right. It is a dark magic. It is a one-time spell, but very powerful. The spell is called Tears of The Witch. It makes a man lose his mind, do and act as he is told. Gunda will try to sacrifice Dean before the eclipse is over. After the eclipse, the spell loses its power. If Gunda does not make it in time, she will be in a big trouble."

"What do you mean, Ulvhat?"

"Gunda will not kill Dean herself. She will entice him to the sacrifice place, all the rest will be done by Hel's servants. If Gunda does not kill Dean before spell loses its power, Hel's servants will kill her for failing."

Suddenly Castiel shook from nervous laughter. His whole body trembled. After the seizure passed, his shoulders slumped and the Saxon hung his head. Castiel surely had a mental breakdown from all the pain and sufferings he went through. It was too much.

"Only you can save Dean. Do not leave him alone with her. Remember, the spell is over as soon as the sun eclipse is finished," Ulvhat advised them. "And one more thing, do not touch any food or drink or you will meet your death. I have told you everything, now everything depends on you."

Sami and Castiel said their good bye and returned to the Viking's house.

* * *

At midnight, Sami gathered all the warriors whose names were given to him by Dean. They gathered in an empty barn.

"My friends, our Jarl is in big danger and our responsibility is to save him." Sami told everything in detail, all he had heard from Ulvhat. "And remember, do not touch anything, food or drink, no matter how hungry or thirsty you may be."

The Vikings and Castiel discussed and made plans how to help their chieftain. As soon as a rooster made its first croak, the warriors started to break up and go to their houses.

The next morning at sunrise, Dean the Berserk's ship with fifty warriors sailed towards Fire Island.


	19. Chapter 19

On the fourth day of sailing, the Vikings' ship entered a dangerous zone. A lot of sailors called it 'Death's embrace'. Many ships had crashed upon invisible reefs and found eternal repose in these deep waters.

Thick mist had fallen and it was impossible to see a thing in the distance. The Vikings stopped rowing. They looked around, trying to understand which way to go.

"I cannot see a damn thing." Sami dropped his row and stood up. He walked towards Dean, who was standing near the sail and silently gazing through the fog. "Hey, are you alright?" Sami asked.

Dean looked at him with a hazed look. It was clear that his mind was elsewhere. "I feel strange, Sami," he began.

"What do you mean? Like what?" Sami's heartbeat quickened.

Dean looked up at the sky, but there was only the thick fog. "Like this is a dream. I feel like I am walking while I am sleeping. I hear voices in my head. I find it hard to distinguish what is real and what is a dream." Dean fell silent.

Sami lowered his voice. "What else do you feel?"

Dean rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. "Sometimes I have this feeling that I hurt someone, someone I care for deeply, but I do not know if it's real or from my dreams."

Sami suppressed a sigh of relief. It was a good sign. As the sun eclipse was getting nearer, the spell was getting weaker.

Sami took a breath and cautiously made his next move. "Dean, do you remember, Castiel?" He could swear that for a second Dean's eyes lit up, which was typical only of humans in love.

"Castiel…" Dean pronounced slowly, like he was tasting each letter of the name with his tongue and lips. "I remember he is one my warriors… but why does his name give me odd sensations? It's painful and delicious at the same time. Other than that, I cannot recall anything else about him. Is there something you want to tell me?" Dean looked at Sami with a child's curiosity.

"He was…" Sami trailed off, not sure how to continue. His mood was spoiled after Dean's words. "Yes, he is one of your warriors…" he finished quickly.

"And?" Dean waited for more.

"Nevermind, Dean." Sami turned around to go and take his seat when Dean's voice reached him.

"Sami, did you know that there are fish of terrifying size in these waters? I remember my father telling me when I was a child that with their tails they can break a ship into half. But I think he was just frightening me."

"Yes, it's just some tales to frighten children." Sami laughed bitterly and went over to Castiel to take his seat.

"You don't have to say anything, Sami, I can read people's faces," Castiel let out a short laugh. The Saxon seemed unbelievably calm and adjusted to his fate.

Suddenly there were alarmed shouts. The ship creaked and leaned on its side. Panic grew quickly. The Vikings rushed to the other side to balance the ship.

"By Odin's ravens, it hit right under my feet," one of the Vikings yelled.

Dean managed to get through the mess of rolling barrels, shields, ropes, and other belongings and approached the shouter. "What is the matter, Bork, why are you yelling?"

"My Jarl, something is in the water. It hit the bottom of the ship, right under where I am sitting."

Dean did not want panic to get more intense and he tried to calm his people. "Probably it was a reef. We need to stop and wait till this fog clears away. Rest your oars!"

The Vikings sat down again. Something was not right. The fog was as thick as butter. Slush and thin ice was covering the water surface in some places. But the disturbing thing was that sea had stopped flowing. The water stood still.

"No, this is not a reef." Castiel's voice sounded and everyone looked at him, alarmed.

"What is it then?" Dean became angry and exasperated with the vagueness.

Castiel looked over the edge of the ship. "Listen."

The crew strained their ears to hear whatever there was to hear. The water bubbled and burst. Steam rose up from the stilled surface. But there was another sound coming from the depth. A pitiful, miserable whistling was getting nearer and louder.

"Ready your swords for whatever is coming!" the Berserk growled, grabbing the hilt of his weapon.

The Vikings did not need to be told twice. The sound of unsheathing swords cut through the thick curtain of the mist and lingered in the air. The warriors did not have enough time to walk over to the center of the ship where they had piled their shields, however, as something crashed into their ship. A large sized hole appeared in the left side of the ship. The water quickly started to pour in.

"Some of you do the draining. The rest of you divide and watch all four sides!" Dean gave orders and went to the tail of the ship. Sami took the prow.

But everything was forgotten quickly when an incredibly long and large tail appeared from the waters and struck the pine mast. The mast came crashing down. Broken wood scattered around. Half of the mast fell overboard.

Things looked awful. More holes and more water did not promise anything good.

"I see it, I see it!" yelled one of the Vikings who was watching the right side of the ship. "Gods of Asgard! The eyes, look at its eyes!"

The Viking could not add anything more as the fish or whatever it was slowly appeared from the sea. Sharp teeth, saucer sized white eyes and a slick, mucus-lined head greeted the Berserk's men.

Dean was the first one to strike. He aimed for the eye. A few warriors managed to blow strikes till the fish disappeared into the water.

"This cannot be good," mumbled Sami.

As proof of his words, the monster flew out like an arrow from the depth. Blood was flowing like a river from its blinded eye. The pain made it angrier. With an eerie scream, it fell down on the ship, cracking and splitting it in half. Wreckage quickly sank into the sea.

Fifty men were floundering in the frozen water while the blood-thirsty monster was swimming around them.

"Get rid of your cloaks! Otherwise you'll drown!" Sami yelled as soon as he was able to breathe from the burning pain in his chest.

"We need to stay together. Come to me!" Dean's voice sounded from the fog. His men followed his voice and little by little started to gather around him.

"Dean we need to…." Sami suddenly shouted in pain and disappeared in the water.

"Dive! It got Sami!" Dean roared and was the first one to give an example.

It was a surprise for him when he found out that the sea was quite clear in the depth, as he could see the fish dragging Sami to the bottom. Dean was an excellent swimmer and quickly approached the monster. Someone touched his shoulder. He turned his head and saw Castiel. The Saxon gave him some signs and the Berserk nodded.

Meanwhile Sami was trying to break free. The fish had caught him by the hand he was holding his sword in, so he could not do much to fight the monster.

Dean got closer and grabbed its fin. He mounted the monster like a horse as best as he could, drove his sword in its back, and leaned on it with all his weight. The fish squealed and opened its mouth. He writhed vigorously. This was enough for Sami to free his hand.

Meanwhile Castiel swam under the monster's belly and ripped it open. Disgusting, mucus-covered bowels fell on his head. The Saxon felt nauseas, but quickly came around. Dean and him grabbed Sami under the armpits and swam for the surface. The Vikings who were on their way down to help Sami saw them and returned back.

"Sami, how are you feeling?" Dean rasped when they broke the water's surface as he held his friend by his unharmed arm.

"I think I survived that damn thing thanks to you and Castiel and I will live if we don't get drowned," Sami laughed as he examined his arm. There were deep cuts and bites in his arm and he was bleeding, but it was not deadly.

"My Jarl, I see something," one of the Vikings shouted from the front.

"I hope it's not another monster," growled Dean.

"No, it looks like an island, my Jarl," came the reply.

"Thanks to all the inhabitants of Asgard," sighed the Berserk in relief. "Is it far?"

"No, my Jarl. Approximately four hundred feet."

"Very well, to the land then!" Dean ordered and swam forward.

"Can you swim, Sami?" Castiel asked, concerned. He was worried about his injured friend.

"Don't worry about me, I can swim even without using my hands," Sami laughed heartily.

* * *

It was a miracle that no one had died from Dean's crew. All the fifty warriors were alive and together when they reached the shore. They walked up the hill and stopped abruptly. The sight before them made their hairs stand on its end.

"I do not like this," Castiel whispered to Sami and clenched his fist around the hilt of the sword.

There was a long row of wooden pillars driven into the ground in front of them. The tips of the pillars were decorated with heads of the creatures that oddly resembled a human's and a beast's offspring.


	20. Chapter 20

"I don't think any of us like it," replied Sami. He walked to a pillar and took a close look at one of the creatures head. A hairy face and dead red eyes stared back at him. Sami raised its upper lip.

"Come, take a look at this," Sami called to the others. Dean was the first one to react.

"What is this creature?" he mumbled when he saw thin, needle-like teeth.

"I do not suggest touching their teeth with your bare hands if you are not trying to meet your death. They are poisonous," rasped a voice from the hill.

The Vikings took two steps back, their swords ready to strike.

"Who are you?" Dean asked the man with a trident. The man was not alone; he had brought ten more islanders with him, who were armed with short spears.

"They call me Ivar. I am the head of this village and these are my men. We are fishers." Ivar was surveying the newcomers thoroughly. "And who are you?"

"I am Dean the Berserk. These are my warriors. We suffered a shipwreck and had to swim to the shore. Where are we?" Dean looked around.

"It does not have a name. We call it a 'forsaken island'."

"That is a strange name. And why did you choose such a name?" Sami interfered in their dialogue.

Ivar and rest of the fishermen walked down the hill towards the Vikings. "You see these things?" Ivar pointed at the heads. "When these beasts attack every night and kill your people and cattle and the Gods do not care, what other name should you choose to call this land?"

"I have never seen such creatures before. What are they?" Dean's forehead wrinkled.

Ivar walked along the pillars, a contented smile danced on his lips while looking at monsters' chopped off heads. "They appeared here ten winters ago. Rumors say a beast came from Fire Island. By the time she stepped on this land, she was pregnant and gave birth. Since then, we have not had a peaceful night. They come hunting at night. We have lost many people in the encounters." Ivar drove his trident in the sand.

Sami looked at the Saxon. "I'm sure it is related to Gunda. But why would she send beasts to these people?" he whispered to Castiel.

"Rumors also say that the beast was sent to us as punishment for not giving tribute to the Fire Island mistress," finished Ivar.

"You said the beast came from Fire Island. How far is it from here?" The Berserk sheathed his sword.

"If you leave at dawn, you will get there by midday. Why do you ask?" Ivar narrowed his eyes.

"We need to be at Fire Island. You are fishers, therefore you must have boats. I need you to take us there. You will get a good reward for this," Dean said with confidence.

Ivar laughed out loud. His men joined him in almost hysterical laughter. Dean tensed; he did not like this strange man mocking him. "How dare you mock me? Do you know who I am?" the Berserk growled ominously.

Ivar stopped laughing and gave him a curious look. "I know who you are. You are a Jarl. How can you reward us, when you have nothing? Your ship sank in the waters. Do you have anything to pay with? You Jarls are liars, your words mean nothing," Ivar said, his voice full of sarcasm.

Dean lost his patience. He unsheathed his sword and stepped forward. Sami gasped and with one jump reached him. "Dean, wait!"

"I should kill you instantly, you fool!" The Berserk grabbed Ivar by his throat, lifting the slim man in the air easily. It happened so quickly that the fisher did not have time for a proper reaction. He flailed and made some choking sounds.

"Dean, for Gods' sake, put him down!"

The rest of the villagers were too scared to attack. They were outnumbered and it would've been unwise to charge at such furious and brutal warriors as Vikings.

"Next time, you think before you open your mouth, do you hear me?" Dean dropped Ivar down with such force that the fisher's bones cracked.

"Don't even think about it!" Dean's sword touched the man's throat when Ivar's eyes slid over to the place where he had driven his trident in.

Castiel, who had kept silent the whole time, approached the opponents. "Our Jarl needs to be at Fire Island tomorrow. We do not have anything valuable to pay you, as our ship sank a little while ago. But we can offer you something else." His soft voice had an incredibly soothing effect.

"And what would that be, boy?" Ivar rubbed his throat.

"We can help you fight these monsters. In return you will take us to Fire Island," Castiel answered calmly. "If my Jarl and you agree." Castiel stared at Dean.

For an instant, Dean's eyes flashed with a familiar light and Castiel barely managed to contain himself from crashing their lips together.

"Alright. You have my consent." Ivar stood up. "Extra help will not harm us."

"Fine," Dean muttered reluctantly. "We will help you and tomorrow at dawn you take us to Fire Island."

Ivar nodded, still sulky from the previous incident. "Follow me. We will give you some food and warmth."

* * *

As Ivar explained, the monsters were big, incredibly strong, and fast. With one strike, they could break a bull's spine. But the most dangerous thing about them was their teeth. The venom in them was deadly. The poison contained in a one bite could kill twelve strong men. The death caused by a bite was slow and painful. A victim would suffer from burning and suffocating sensations. The poison slowly but steadily would destroy their vital organs, turning them into a rotting mess that would come out together with blood during coughing.

The creatures were strong, but still stoppable. The Vikings came up with a plan and after discussing it with the villagers, no one objected. The whole village, including children and old people, participated in preparations.

The ground was rough and frozen. The snow and icy layers were not making the digging process easier, but with joined forces the final target was achieved.

A long, ten foot deep ditch stretched along the wooden fence. It was hidden under branches and dried grass. On the bottom of the ditch, the Vikings laid dry straw which was soaked in linseed oil.

The trap was ready. Now everyone had to wait. Children, women, and old people were sent to the shelter. A black lamb that was tied to a nearby tree bleated and stamped the ground.

As the darkness slowly approached and the twilight engulfed the earth, guttural growls and snarling filled the air. The sounds were coming from the woods. The lamb bleated desperately and tried to run away, but the rope would not let it.

In the beginning, dark shadows were moving cautiously, but after the lamb bleated, dozens of figures came rushing towards the fence.

"Do not move," Dean hissed.

The Vikings and the villagers waited patiently. The creatures crushed and smashed everything on their way: bushes, small trees, twigs. Barking, snarling, and other unearthly noises sounded too close.

"Get ready!" The Berserk gave them a sign.

There was a loud howling as the ditch surface collapsed and the creatures fell in it.

"Throw the torches!" Dean shouted as he saw most of the creatures in the ditch. A few still were lurking around, but they would not be much of a problem.

The lit torches flew in the ditch and fire instantly blazed up. The howling became unbearable. The creatures were trying to climb up the walls and get out, but the ditch was too high for them. The shrieking quickly died out.

Meanwhile, the rest of the fishers and the Vikings annihilated the ones that had not fallen in the ditch. Only two fishers died in the clash. Eight hacked off heads were gathered in a pile for further impalement.

Ivar separated from the villagers and went to Dean. "I want to thank you for your help and also apologize for my rude words and behavior this morning." He lowered his gaze. The Berserk nodded benevolently. "Tomorrow at dawn, our boats will take you to Fire Island. Now, please come and share our scanty meals," Ivar invited his guests.

"Hey, little lamb." Castiel patted the lamb that had miraculously stayed alive and walked behind Dean. Fried fish and potatoes made everyone's stomach growl. A good supper was exactly what they needed after a hard day.

* * *

Ivar gave them seven boats at the dawn and Dean the Berserk sailed to Fire Island. The weather was good. No mist, rain, or storm came in their way. After seven hours of exhausting sailing, they could see the outline of the island in the distance.

"That is Fire Island," said the fisher in Dean's boat.

The Berserk, Sami, and Castiel stared into the distance. As the distance shortened, a shape of the huge, stunning castle was outlined distinctly. A dragon carved from deep red steel sat on one of the domes. The midday sun bathed the dragon in rays, giving it a dark scarlet shade. The sculpture seemed alive and terrifying, as if the fire dragon had just landed on the roof.

Castiel closed his eyes and silently prayed to Freyja.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so we've come to the culmination point ;) The song's name (which Cas sings to Dean) is called The Last Lullaby and the text and music is written by me.

"Where are they?" Gunda was furious. She was anxious and pacing back and forth in the room. The sun eclipse was getting near and she could not stay calm.

"Relax, he should be here any minute." Gunter was rubbing his forehead, trying to soothe his headache.

"I cannot relax, he should have been here already!" Gunda screamed, her voice cracking.

"What is the matter with you?" Gunter rose from his chair. "The feast will not start until they arrive, so why are you so nervous?"

Gunda whirled around and stared at her brother, her face showing utter fear. "You do not understand, Gunter."

"Then explain better and maybe I will understand what is happening!" Gunter lost his patience and banged his fist on the table. "I am sick of your mysteries and secrets. If you want my help, you should make things clear," he lowered his voice, feeling uncomfortable after yelling at his sister.

"What if something happened to their ship and he will not be able to come?" Gunda locked her fingers and rested her chin on them.

"I am sure they are fine." Gunter put a reassuring hand on the woman's shoulder. "You should relax. The bride should not be tired or nervous. You must look beautiful and happy. I will leave you now and you do what I told you." Gunter kissed her forehead and left her chamber.

Gunda's gaze lingered on the closed door. She was scared. Never in her life had she felt such fear and misery. She knew and could foresee her fate if she failed. And that would not be the pleasant one. She was the fourth priestess, all the former ones had failed her mistress in service and Gunda did not want to be the next one, knowing what would happen to her in case of a failure.

She grabbed at her pearl necklace and tugged it in frustration. The thin thread split and white balls scattered on the floor.

"This cannot happen to me, not me!" She was repeating it like a mantra and clutching her velvet bed sheets.

The fluttering of wings and knocking got her attention and she looked at the window. A black raven was pecking the ivory colored window glass brought from Byzantium.

"Shoo, you nasty creature! Get away from me!" Gunda screamed at the bird.

The raven calmly was examining her with its wise eyes. The bird flapped its wings rapidly and croaked dreadfully three times before flying away.

Gunda shivered. This was not a good sign.

Shouts sounded from outside and she withdrew from her thoughts. Gunda ran to the window and looked at the sea. She saw seven boats that were slowly approaching.

"Gunter!" she called for her brother and hurriedly left her room.  

 

* * *

"Is it not majestic?" Dean asked in awe, looking at the castle.

No one was able to stop staring at the tremendous building. Castiel was enchanted by the red dragon that was sitting on the citadel roof.

Their guide, an experienced fisher with calloused hands, gave a small chuckle. "I do not know what you want on this island, and probably this is not my business, but I will give you some advice. Stay away from the mistress of this island. I have not seen anyone being lucky after encountering her."

Castiel and Sami glanced at each other. Dean just snorted. "Just a raving," he said, carefree.

"Sure, just a raving," said the fisher. "Did you know that three Norman ships have disappeared after visiting this island?" He squinted his eyes from the sun rays.

"How do you know about that? As I remember Ivar said you rarely leave your island," the Berserk said without lifting his gaze from the castle walls.

"Oh, we know a lot of things. We do not leave our island, but that does not mean that we are not aware of what happens around us," replied the fisher confidently.

"Whatever," Dean mumbled. "I guess we will have to find out."

Meanwhile, all the boats reached the shore. Despite Dean's invitations, the fishers categorically refused to stay overnight and rest. They said their farewell and quickly rowed back to their island.

"Let's go, my friends!" Dean exclaimed gleefully and moved towards the castle in the thick snow. As always, the Vikings followed their leader.

"I bet you Gunda killed her husband to own this place," Sami whispered to Castiel while learning the castle and its surroundings.

"But it was already hers, so why would she do it?" Castiel asked naively.

"Oh, you do not know women, brother." Sami laughed out loud, which made Dean turn around.

"What's so funny?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing, I was just telling him how Ottar got wasted and was running naked in front of his house," Sami said monotonously.

The Berserk gave a small laugh and nodded. "Yes, I remember it. That was very funny."

 

* * *

As said before, Dragon Castle was a piece of rare beauty. To enter the castle one had to go through the barbican first. The barbican itself had walls seventeen feet high made from sandstone. Guards stood at battlements, pacing on parapets from time to time.

The iron gate connected the barbican to the courtyard. It was divided in half. One part with the lower bailey consisted of stables, a well, and other small buildings. The main bailey had the main building and the small chapel, which lord Robert had built himself. Being a believer in Christianity, he loved to pray there.

The curtain walls of the castle were as high as the barbican, with four towers of twenty feet high at all four sides built from sandstone and linestone. There were many arrow loops in the walls where the archers could shoot intruders from.

But the main part of the castle was a twenty foot high keep. It was made of flint stone and had round arched windows. The keep was the strongest and the most secure place of the whole castle. On the roof of the keep sat the red dragon, terrifying enemies only with its shape.

As the Vikings approached the barbican, the drawbridge descended slowly. The thick iron chains rattled and creaked.

In the passage stood Gunda, Gunter, and the town's noblemen accompanied with dozens of guards. Gunda was wearing a scarlet dress with a golden belt. Her red dress seemed like a blood puddle on the white, untouched snow.

She looked relaxed and composed. She stepped forward to meet her future husband, reaching her hands towards Dean. "Finally you have arrived," she murmured as their hands met.

"Our ship sank and we were helped by the nearest islanders. I apologize if it caused you concern." The Viking held her in a tight embrace. "Thanks to the Gods we overcame the dangers and obstacles and I am here." He kissed her hand.

Gunter stepped forward to meet his future brother in law. "Good to see you Dean the Berserk," he greeted him heartily. "Please, dear guests, come with us." Gunter motioned them towards the castle.

Before they entered the gates, Gunda leaned towards her brother and whispered into his ear: "Gunter, take the guests to the hall. I have something important to do. They can eat and drink as much as they want, but do not touch any food or drink. And do not ask any questions until I come back into the hall."

The Danish Jarl stopped, confused. His sister's cryptic tone made him utterly suspicious, but then he quickly came round and led his guests to the castle.

 

* * *

As they entered the courtyard, merry music and cheerful greetings sounded from every corner. People were throwing flower petals at their heads and covering their path with olive branches. The Vikings were amazed at the reception and with puzzled expressions were looking in every direction.

It was hard to keep an eye on Dean as a lot of people danced, jumped, and mixed around. There were a lot of animal tamers who held big pumas by chains, dangerous and fierce bears, small and clever monkeys, and other wild animals brought from the exotic countries.

Castiel jumped aside when a big snake rose up from the open basket in front of a charmer who was playing a flute.

Sami instinctively grabbed his sword while contemplating the huge, brown snake. "We should talk to Gunter and explain what's happening. Damn, I hate these things," Sami growled.

"Do you think he will believe us? I am not sure. I think it will infuriate him, thinking we are insulting his sister." Castiel shook his head in denial.

"Well, we could try and see what comes out of it."

A small group of fire-swallowers crossed their path and the procession stopped. The smoke and the flames blurred their vision. The public screamed and cheered, excited. Musicians, actors, and pranksters mixed with locals, making their passing almost impossible.

Cold wind blew, bringing dark clouds across the sky. Torch fires in the fakirs' hands died out.

"Gunter," Sami called the man, trying to overcover the loud shouts and laughter.

Gunter stopped and turned around. "Yes, what is it?" he asked gently.

"We need to talk." Sami and Castiel said simultaneously.

"Yes, sure but let's get inside first. We can talk at the table."

The crowd pressed from all directions and the Vikings were pushed towards the main tower. Gunter led them to the great hall, where a table of enormous size with fabulous food was set. As the Vikings entered the hall, a heavy door closed behind them.

"Yes, my friends, what is it? How can I help you?" Gunter asked while moving towards the table.

Sami stared at him intently, frowning deeply. "It's about your sister."

Gunter quickly stopped and gave him a confused look. "Gunda? What about her?"

Sami gulped nervously before answering. "She plans to sacrifice Dean. She is Hel's priestess."

Gunter stared at Sami like he was looking at a mad man. After a short and tense silence, he burst into laughter. "Now, this is the strangest joke I have ever heard."

Suddenly Castiel gasped and paled. "Where are Dean and Gunda?"

Sami looked around and cursed aloud when he did not see Dean in the hall.

Gunter stopped laughing, his face deadly serious. "What's going on?"

"We told you. Gunda is Hel's priestess and she will sacrifice Dean to her before the sun eclipse is over. We need to find them as soon as possible." Sami unsheathed his sword. "Vikings, remember what Ulvhat told us? Do not touch anything!" he barked.

Gunter was utterly shocked and didn't have the slightest idea what was happening.

Castiel felt sorry for him and tried to explain. "Your sister wants us dead so we can not prevent her from her intention. She has poisoned the food and drink. Our sorcerer warned us beforehand."

Gunter's face reddened from rage. "I swear by Odin and Thor if this is a joke, I will not tolerate you insulting my sister's name!" he hissed.

"Very well, and what will you do if we are right?" Sami asked sternly.

"Then I will kill her myself," Gunter replied without taking his eyes off of Sami.

"Sami, look," suddenly one of the Vikings called. He was holding a big rat.

"We can find out if we are right," Sami told Gunter and took the rat to the table. He took a small piece of cheese and gave it to the rat. The rodent took the cheese and began to chew. After a few bites it squeaked and cramped. A few more seconds and the rat was dead.

Sami glanced at Gunter, who was opening and closing his mouth, not able to utter a word. Sami dropped the rat on the floor. "Vikings, follow me, we need to find our Jarl!" he shouted and moved towards the door. His forty eight friends and a stunned Gunter followed him.

That was when they found out that the wooden door had been barred from the other side.

 

* * *

"Where are we going, Gunda?" Dean was surprised as Gunda kept pulling his hand, tugging him towards the forest.

"Come, Dean. I want to show you one special place," she said with a smile as they passed through the gates of the castle.

"I forgot to inform my men." Dean's voice sounded concerned.

"Gunter is with them. If they need something, he can provide," the woman assured him.

They turned to the left and walked towards the aspen grove. Dean did not notice a victorious smile on Gunda's face when the dark clouds covered the sky and the sun disappeared. The earth sank into the darkness.

They were about to enter the grove when, out of nowhere, a beggar appeared. She stood in their way with determination.

"My lady, I have not eaten for a few days, please give me some coins so I can buy bread for my children," she pleaded Gunda.

"Out of my way, wench!" Gunda said in disgust, trying to push her away.

The beggar fell on her knees and grabbed Gunda's dress hem. "Please, be merciful," she pleaded. "I do not ask for myself. My children are starving."

Gunda kicked her and snatched the dress out of her hands. "How dare you stop me? Don't you know who I am?" she shouted in rage.

But the woman was not listening to her. Now she was clinging and wrapping her arms around Dean's legs. "My lord, I can see your kind heart, please help me feed my children." She sobbed miserably.

Dean's heart felt heavy. He leaned down and helped her get up. "What can I give you, poor woman? My ship sank in deep waters, taking all my belongings to the bottom," he said with deep concern.

"Do not listen to her, my lord, come with me." Gunda tugged at Dean's sleeve.

The beggar bowed her head and whispered: "Do not worry, Dean. I do not need your money." A mysterious smile danced on her lips before she slowly walked away.

"What a strange woman," mumbled the Viking as he followed Gunda, who was almost running towards the woods.

"Gunda, wait," he called as he entered the woods.

He saw four white columns. A small set of stairs led to the marble pool, which was situated in the middle between the columns. The pool was full of red substance that looked eerily like blood.

"Gunda, where are you? What are we…" Dean suddenly cried out in pain and grabbed his head. "What…." he began again but could not finish as a worse wave of pain crashed into him.

He yelled and fell down on his knees. He felt like his head was on fire. His blood was boiling, his bones ached, and his muscles were tensed to the edge of tearing. Dean's whole body shivered and cramped. He opened his mouth in a silent scream. Then he began coughing and vomiting. A thick, green mass poured like a river from his mouth.

Sudden thunder shook the earth. Wrathful wind howled in the trees. The pool surface bubbled and stirred.

Dean finally was able to inhale. He slowly got up from his knees and looked around. He shook his head and strained his eyes, looking around. "Where am I?" he whispered, bewildered.

A sudden scream startled him and he barely managed to jump aside and avoid a strike. He quickly turned around and saw Gunda, who was holding a heavy cudgel.

"What is happening? Where am I and what do you want from me?" Dean yelled at top of his lungs.

"Die, you bastard!" she screamed and attacked him again, trying desperately to throw him into the pool.

"Where is Castiel? What did you do to him, you bitch?" Dean snarled and grabbed her wrists.

"He is dead, as are all of your friends," she laughed manically. Hysteria and madness danced in her black eyes.

"You're lying," retorted Dean in protest.

Gunda's response was subdued under a roll of thunder. The cudgel fell out of her hand. She shrieked and kicked the Viking in the groin. Dean cried out from pain and doubled over, but he managed to slap her hard in the face. Gunda fell down on the ground, unconscious.

The powerful earthquake shook the earth. The forest filled with frightened sounds. Birds and animals shrieked, squealed, and howled all around him. The pool bubbled once again. Dean unsheathed his sword and yelled:

"Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas!"

 

* * *

The Vikings were trying to break down the door when Castiel yelped from pain and grabbed his left arm.

"What is it, Castiel?" Sami stopped ramming the door and looked at his sworn brother.

"I believe it's the sign again," the Saxon muttered and quickly rolled the sleeve up. No need to say that his arm was covered in blood.

"Dean is in danger…" Castiel paled and he grabbed the hilt of the sword with his trembling fingers. As proof of his theory, a desperate cry sounded from the woods:

"Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas!"

Castiel made a choking sound and, without much thinking, ran towards the window. He broke the glass and looked out towards the woods.

"What are you doing?" Gunter asked, not believing his eyes.

"I am trying to save my Jarl," Castiel said simply.

"You will die, Castiel! The walls of the castle are too tall!" Gunter exclaimed.

"Maybe it's better that way," Castiel chuckled bitterly.

Sami stepped to the window, but Castiel stopped him. "No, Sami. Please don't."

Sami nodded knowingly. "May Freyja protect you, Castiel," he said, his voice breaking at the end.

Castiel nodded with a smile and jumped.

"How long?" Gunter croaked.

"What do you mean?" Sami came out of his astonishment.

"How long has he been in love with Dean?" Gunter clarified.

"Long enough."

"And Dean?"

"Yes. He loved him until your sister messed up his mind." Sami smiled bitterly.

"I am sorry. I wish I had known." Gunter's voice was full of regret.

Footsteps sounded from the other side and someone unbarred the door. Armed warriors rushed in to the room.

"Did you really think we would not find out about your mistress' dirty plans?" Sami roared at them. "Vikings, charge!" He gave the command and attacked with a fierce force. Gunter was the first to follow. With a mighty war cry, he attacked the intruders. The Vikings, who were enraged by all that was happening around them, flipped the table and charged at Gunda's men.

 

* * *

Castiel's heart was trying to explode while he was rushing through the air. He had jumped from a twenty foot high wall and he was not sure he would be alive after hitting the ground. His last hope was the thick snow that was still fluffy. The Saxon frantically prayed to Freyja. "Please, help me. I beg you!"

The collision with the earth was horrible and at first he thought all of his bones were crushed. He was sunk into chest-deep snow and gasping for the air. Little by little, Castiel felt he could move his hands and legs and began to climb out of the white cover. He was outside the castle.

He rubbed his ankle and limped towards the woods.

 

* * *

Dean waited for a response, straining his ears. The only sound he heard was some splashing from behind him. He quickly turned around. The Berserk felt how his hair stood on its end. Six creatures, half men, half snakes to be precise, were staring at him from the pool. They were leaning on their snake tails. Red eyes glared at him hungrily. Their torsos were covered with thick, black scales. The creatures did not have noses or ears. The holes which they had instead of ears were leaking some gross, dark liquid. Each creature was holding a sharp dagger.

Dean was too astonished to move when a groan got his attention. He turned his head and saw Gunda sitting up and massaging her temples.

"Gundaaaa…." hissed one of the creatures and swam closer to the edge of the pool.

Gunda, startled, and opened her eyes. Immediately, utter fear crept into them.

"You failed…." The creature's long and forked tongue thrust out.

"No… no…. no, I have brought him to you…" Gunda protested weakly.

"You had to throw him in the pool." The rest of the creatures hissed synchronously and moved forward.

Before Gunda could respond, a hand of the first creature extended at an unbelievable length and grabbed the woman's hair. With another hand he clutched her dress. The hand that was grabbing her hair made an abrupt pull. Gunda's scream was deafening. Dean felt nauseous when he saw the ripped off scalp in the creature's hand. The rest of the creatures swam out of the pool towards the flailing Gunda. They encircled her. The sight which Dean saw he could not have imagined in his worst nightmare.

The creatures held Gunda's hands and legs still while one of them was slowly breaking and snapping each of her bones. Gunda's voice was hoarse from screaming. Torn and bloody muscles and veins were hanging from her skull. Her red dress, shredded to pieces, was dropped on the ground while the owner's naked and tortured body was writhing in her tormentors' clawed hands.

Dean did not think that there could be something worse that could happen when a clawed hand ripped Gunda's stomach apart, emboweling her. Gunda's breathe stuck in her throat and her body cramped in agony. The creatures dropped her onto the ground and stared at Dean.

The Berserk took two steps back. "Don't you dare, you sons of snakes, or whatever you are!" he growled low and warningly.

He hacked a large portion of the tail when it tried to smack him. The creature shrieked and attacked. Dean jumped aside with lightning speed, whirled around, and thrust his sword into the creature's throat. It fell on the ground, writhing and spitting blood out. The second creature was beheaded by Dean's sword, though the monster managed to stab the Viking in the arm.

The other four monsters encircled the Berserk. Dean held his sword tightly. "Come on, you bastards!" he roared and raised his sword.

 

* * *

Castiel was panting and out of breath when he reached the marble columns. He heard shrieks, hissings, and metal clashing as he entered the woods, but could not understand what it was until he saw the dreadful sight. He noticed Dean's figure, which was being ambushed by eerie monsters. The Viking was covered in blood and swaying. Three creatures were still alive. Three of them were lying dead on the ground.

"Dean!" Castiel shouted and rushed towards his lover.

"Cas, you're alive…" the Viking stopped for a second and smiled blissfully. That was enough and one of the creatures stabbed him in the stomach.

"No!" Castiel yelled and covered the last remaining steps with one jump.

He did not notice how he hacked left and right, up and down. The Saxon was fast and furious. It seemed even the legions of Hel would not be able to stop him. The monsters desperately tried to rip him to shreds, but the scales tipped into Castiel's favor.

The last creature, with open chest and ripped out heart, fell on the ground and Castiel, covered in their blood from head to toes, drove his sword into the ground.

He fell on his knees beside Dean's body. The Viking had a lot of wounds and stabs. It seemed he did not have an unharmed spot on his body.

"Dean, hold on, Dean…" Castiel held him in his arms. "I will get you out of here, I promise! Don't you dare to die on me, you hear, Dean?" He was kissing Dean's cheeks, forehead, eyes, and lips.

Dean chuckled and immediately a thick blood stream stretched down from the corner of his mouth.

"Don't speak, please," Castiel's voice broke and he was not able to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks.

"Cas… I am… so sorry for… everything," Dean rasped and patted the Saxon's cheek.

"It was not your fault Dean, it wasn't," Castiel whispered and rocked back and forth with his lover's body in his arms.

"Cas, I'm dying," Dean said calmly. "I can die happy knowing that you forgave me."

Castiel started. "Don't you dare, Dean, you hear me? I swear by my God, your Gods and Goddesses, and every God out there that I will find and resurrect you only to strangle you with my own hands if you leave me!" The Saxon's voice cracked and he sobbed.

"Cas, can you do something for me?" Dean whispered. It was getting hard to speak for him.

"Anything you want, Dean." Castiel choked another sob.

"Sing me the song which your mother sang to your father before he went to his final battle." The Viking closed his eyes.

The Saxon let out a bitter moan. He squeezed his eyes shut and began with a shaking voice:

_"Close your eyes, and follow dream's path,_

_Free your mind from worries and rest,_

_The night has just started, time is still left,_

_Sleep in my arms, put your head on my chest…"_

Dean smiled happily. "I love you," he said and his fingers softly touched Castiel's lips.

"I love you too, Dean," Castiel whimpered.

The Viking's hand dropped limply and his head rolled to the side.

"Dean? Dean? No, no, noooooooooooooooo!" Castiel screamed.

His scream rose up high towards the skies. Thunder rolled, lightning flashed, and heavy rain poured down, flooding everything on its way. 

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

Sami the Bloody Axe was Dean's best warrior. He was unbelievably strong and courageous. His enormous double-bladed axe terrified foes, who would flee only from the sight of it. He could easily slaughter seven or eight strong men without any help. Sami and Dean always fought shoulder to shoulder in battles. They always could count on each other. Sami was irreplaceable and Dean knew it. Like their fathers, who were best friends, Dean and Sami followed their example. They were inseparable since childhood. They played together, ate together, got into trouble together, and fought together. If anyone ever asked them about the most valuable thing in their lives, they would not hesitate and answer that it was their friendship.

Dean was twenty when he went into his first, serious battle. Sami was beside him, though he was only sixteen winters old. Dean's father had made an alliance with a Swedish Jarl and came to his aid against some severe, numerous barbarian tribe, which was constantly raiding and troubling his land and its inhabitants.

Sami clearly remembered every moment of the bloody battle. The screams, the groans of the wounded, the clanking of steel—and, of course, the piles of mutilated corpses. He could feel a rush of excitement in his blood that was making him dizzy. But the most fascinating thing he found was fighting beside Dean.

Sami knew that his friend was called the Berserk, but he had not seen him fallen into the strange, fathomless ecstasy till that day. One glance was enough to remember what Berserk meant.

The Berserks were considered Odin's special warriors who would join him in Valhalla after their deaths. The Berserks would gnaw the edges of their shields and drive themselves into a battle frenzy, scaring the living daylights out of their enemies. They were terrifying warriors, fighting with enormous force and fury.

Until his death hour, Sami would remember the moment when he stopped in awe, looking at the enraged Dean. Dean's eyes were flashing with the fire of madness; the guttural growls emitting from his throat were inhuman. He had already slaughtered five rivals and was not intending to stop. Sami had not noticed a barbarian with a wooden cudgel who had sneaked up from behind. Dean's warning shout withdrew him from astonishment and he managed to jump aside, but the man had time to strike a blow. The cudgel broke Sami's clavicle. The ear-splitting shriek he let out made Dean turn around. Sami was sprawled out on the ground and the barbarian was standing over him to make a final blow. Sami's axe was kicked aside… but the attacker never had time for the final strike, as his hacked off head fell into Sami's lap.

The battle, which lasted for seven exhausting hours, was finished with the Swedish Jarl's triumphant victory. On the same day one more important event happened: Dean and Sami became blood brothers.

* * *

Sami and Gunter, who were followed by rest of the Vikings, stopped dead in their tracks as soon as they entered the woods. A mighty, lingering howl tore the skies. Rolling thunder could not cover the loudness of the cry. As soon as Sami came out of his stupor, he pointed to the right direction.

"It's coming from that way!"

Heavy footsteps thudded down in the mud and puddles that were created by merciless rain. The sight before them churned their stomachs and made their hairs bristle.

Dreadful creatures with snake tails lay on the ground dead. Some of them were beheaded, some ripped apart. The woman's dead corpse was lying near them, mutilated almost past recognition.

Gunter's eyes widened. "Dear Gods…." he rasped, then doubled over and vomited.

The sight was so perplexing that no one noticed a soaking wet figure kneeling in the mud. Finally, as Sami's gaze shifted, he let out a startled yell.

Castiel was kneeling in a puddle of mud and blood, which little by little was rinsing away in the downpour. His eyes were staring at the body lying still in his arms.

Sami and the rest of the warriors rushed to his side. "What happened, Castiel?" Sami could not control his voice, so it came out as a yell.

The Saxon slowly lifted his gaze and stared at his sworn brother with a blank face. Gunter kneeled beside them and cautiously touched Dean's throat to check for a pulse. "He is still alive. We need to get him into the castle!"

Sami nodded and looked at the Vikings. "We need stretchers to carry him to the castle."

Without any hesitation, four Vikings took their cloaks off and hurriedly made makeshift stretchers.

Sami gently touched the Saxon's arm. "Castiel, let him go."

"No," came the whimpering reply.

"If you don't let him go, we will not be able to help him and he will die," Gunter cut in.

Castiel's eyes stared miserably at both men and they had to avert their gaze, not being able to withstand the pain in them.

"I can't let him die," he said, a desperate, nearly insane light in his eyes. The Saxon finally loosened his grip. The Vikings gingerly laid Dean on the cloaks and lifted him.

"Come," Sami reached his hand out to Castiel. The Saxon grasped it and stood up.

"As I remember, my sister…." Gunter trailed off. "The witch had good healers in the castle. They can help," he said.

Sami did not say anything. His head was going round from all the worries.

* * *

The healers of the castle carefully examined Dean's wounds and injuries. They shook their heads with regret. "We are sorry, my lord, we cannot save him. The only thing we can do is soothe his pains and delay his death for a few more days."

Everyone seemed to be rendered speechless. Sami's nervous knuckle cracking was the only sound breaking the tormenting silence.

"We can bring Ulvhat here. He is our last hope." Castiel's hoarse voice cut through the thick curtain of despair.

Gunter, who was pressing his hands against the wall raised his head. "Gunda had the fastest ravens I have ever seen. They can reach your lands in one day. I will go and tell a tamer to send a raven."

"Ulvhat will be here in five days if the weather is good," mumbled Sami.

"Will he be able to last that long?" Castiel was staring at Dean's motionless body in the bed.

"We will do our best, my lord." The healers bowed their heads.

"Then do it." Gunter quickly left the room to find the bird tamers.

* * *

Fate was a strange thing. It seemed like it was taking great pleasure in testing Dean's and Castiel's feelings towards each other. It liked pushing and dropping obstacles in their way. No rest for the wicked.

It was long past midnight when Sami walked into the chamber where Dean was situated. Castiel was sitting next to the bed in a tall, wooden chair. He looked exhausted and worn out. Four days had passed since the raven left Fire Island and he had not eaten even a chunk of bread. Needless to say, the Saxon had not slept since that awful day either, other than sudden black outs in the chair from exhaustion. His body needed to rest, but Castiel stubbornly refused to move from Dean's chamber.

"Why are you doing this?" Sami's deep voice startled him, as he had not heard him come in.

The Saxon looked at him with tired, red eyes. Sami could tell that he was on the edge and if he continued what he was doing, his body would give up.

"I am doing the same thing that he did for me," Castiel replied. His voice was so hoarse that it was hard to recognize. "When I was struggling to stay alive, he would not move from my side for days and nights. I am doing what I must."

Sami did not reply. He knew Castiel was right. And he would've done the same if he'd been in his place. He put his hand on the Saxon's shoulder and squeezed it gently in sympathy.

"Then I will stay here too. I cannot sleep either." Sami sat in another chair and fell silent.

Both men were praying that Ulvhat would come in time and save Dean.

* * *

No one knew by which miracle or which deity's help Ulvhat came one day earlier than he was expected. The sorcerer looked very impressive. His long white hair and beard were ruffled by the wind. His face was sullen and serious as he walked towards the castle accompanied by Gunter, Sami, and the other Vikings that had come with Ulvhat. Local people were intimidated by his appearance and hurried away.

Castiel's eyes snapped open when the doors slammed shut. As he opened his eyes, he found Ulvhat's strict but condoling eyes penetrating him.

"Ulvhat," he whispered, unable to say the name any louder.

The sorcerer frowned deeply and then turned to the bed. He lifted the covers and examined Dean's wounds. The thorough examination lasted for approximately an hour, during which no one uttered even a single word.

Ulvhat turned to Gunter. "Call some servants; I will need a lot of things."

As the servants came in, the sorcerer explained what he needed. After a few more tense minutes, they came back and loaded the table with all the things that Ulvhat required.

Gunter ordered them to light more torches so the sorcerer could have good illumination for his work.

"Now, I must ask everyone to leave," Ulvhat declared with finality. "And one more thing," he said directly to Sami, "make this halfwit sleep before he kills himself." Ulvhat pointed at Castiel.

Despite the critical situation, Sami was not able to suppress a snort. "Come, Castiel."

Gunter was the first to leave the room. Sami waited for the Saxon to get up. They moved through the door together.

"I believe Ulvhat can save him, just like he…" Sami was interrupted by a loud thud.

He turned around and saw Castiel lying unconscious on the floor. Exhaustion, nervousness, a lack of sleep and food had taken its toll on him and he finally fainted.

"Damn it, you fool…." Sami cursed and rushed to his side. He picked Castiel up and with quick steps headed towards the Saxon's room.


	23. Chapter 23

_Flickering candles... dancing shadows... heavy breathing... a forehead covered in sweat... muffled whispers... cries… "calm down"… "hush, I am here"... fingers lovingly touching dry and chapped lips... "You are safe, I'm here, my love"... coughing... blood... rasping... his name pouring from the lips of the tormented... "Sleep, I will stay by your side" ...eyes slowly closing… even breathing…_

Castiel let out a small sigh and a bittersweet smile danced on his lips as he closed his eyes. The memories stormed through his mind.

The image of Dean lying in a bed, struggling for his life, would haunt him for the rest of his days. There was no force that could erase them or make him forget about them. Almost two years had passed since the incident on Fire Island. The nightmares still preyed upon Castiel at night, waking him up at midnight with Dean's name stuck in his throat.

He could still see the creatures in the darkness stabbing and tearing Dean to shreds. Only after a while he would realize that it was only a dream and the Saxon would put down his loyal sword, Dean's special present. With panting and shuddering he would rest his head on the pillow, trying in vain to fall asleep.

The boat was slowly swaying from side to side in the emerald colored sea. Hot, august sun rays were shimmering on the sea surface. The shore barely could be seen.

Castiel stretched his hands over his head and hummed. The much wanted and expected summer heat was licking his naked body and the Saxon was greatly enjoying it. Something nudged his side. Castiel opened his eyes and looked down. Immediately he was greeted with a pair of those beautiful green eyes and a smug look that could make Castiel melt like butter. He let out a small laugh when the owner of the green eyes nose-nudged him again.

"You looked worried," Dean said, leaning on his elbows. His nose traced small patterns on Castiel's abdomen.

"Just old memories." The Saxon rested his hand on the Viking's head.

Dean raised his head and swept some stray strands of his hair over his shoulders. "Cas, just let it go. I am alive, as you can see."

"I know," Castiel said with a smile. "It's not like I am taking pleasure in remembering. Sometimes they just surface from the depth."

Dean did not answer. He lay beside Castiel on the bottom of the boat, looking up at the clear sky. Like Castiel, he was naked too, enjoying the summer sun. His skin was tanned a mesmerizing bronze color. The wounds from his fight on Fire Island had left white scars on his abdomen and arms, but it really only gave him more manly appeal.

"I can't believe Gunter gave us Dragon Castle as a present," Dean huffed.

"He felt very regretful and awkward when he found out about us. Gunter said all the venture with the wedding would not have started had he known about us from the beginning." Castiel was chewing a shamrock stem.

"He is a good man. I like him. It is not his fault that his sister was a witch. And I will still help him whenever he needs my help," Dean said sincerely.

"I know that you will and I like that." Castiel's fingers tickled the Viking's thigh. Dean neighed crazily.

"Hey, you will frighten all the fish and the net will stay empty," Castiel reprimanded him with a fake angry tone. The Saxon perfectly knew Dean's ticklish spots and sometimes, when he was in a mischievous mood, would torture him pitilessly until Dean begged for mercy through roaring laughter and happy tears.

"Cas, for the love of the Gods…" Dean's eyes were watering, his body shaking from uncontrollable tremors. Castiel was lying on top of him with one hand pinning Dean's hands above his head while another hand was ruthlessly tickling and poking the Viking near the ribs.

One, the most effective and worst for Dean, made the Viking squeal shamelessly and his body jerked up, throwing Castiel aside. Instantly Dean jumped on him playfully, covering Castiel with his own body and immobilizing him.

"Who cares about tiny fish when I have caught something much bigger?" His lips formed a wicked grin. He placed his knee between the Saxon's thighs and gently parted them. "Much better," the Viking purred and lay between his lover's parted legs.

This was bliss. These were the moments which Castiel valued the most. Pure happiness. What else could he have wished for? The heat was making him slumberous. His mind drifted away and he felt drowsy. Castiel sighed contentedly as he rolled his head to the side, closing his eyes. But his peace did not last long.

Dean's hands that were pinning him to the bottom of the boat slowly moved from the wrists down his arms. Castiel bit his lip and whimpered. Dean chuckled in satisfaction. He knew that the inner sides of arms were Castiel's weak spot and sensual touches were driving him crazy.

"Dean, not fair," Castiel groaned as the fingers were replaced by a hot mouth. "It's… it's too… aaah…" Castiel bucked his hips up and trembled under his lover.

"Too what, Cas?" Dean's low growl did nothing but make the Saxon's breathing more ragged. Castiel's skin covered in goose bumps when Dean lapped at his nipple and then blew on it.

"Dean…" He already sounded wrecked and the Viking had hardly done a thing yet.

"Mm?" Dean's tongue was violating his navel now.

"It's not fair. Let me touch you too," Castiel whined when the Viking's hands once again returned to his wrists and pinned him down again.

"Sorry, I don't think so. I'm having too much fun," Dean smirked slyly.

"Oh, you bastard," Castiel groaned desperately when Dean started to lick the inner side of his thigh. The Saxon's head thumped against the bottom of the boat with a loud sound. "Oh, fuck…"

"Getting there."

The Viking just doubled his efforts to drive his lover crazy. He licked and sucked the delicate skin, trying his best to form a bruise.

Unexpectedly, Castiel was flipped over onto his belly. The warm hand slid from his neck down to his tailbone. Then it smacked his butt.

"I should punish you for having a filthy mouth," the Viking chuckled into the Saxon's ear and playfully slapped his rear again.

Castiel gasped, not expecting either slap. Then he remembered something and laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?" Dean asked surprised.

"Have I ever told you that this part of my body has suffered a lot of punishments?" The Saxon giggled like a child.

Dean arched his brows. "No, you haven't. Who used to punish you? I don't understand."

"When I was a child, my father used to spank me for being stubborn and disobedient. I had to sleep at noon and I hated it, so I'd scream and protest. This eventually would madden him and as a result my ass would end up red." Castiel grinned at Dean, who was listening to him with his mouth open and amused look on his face.

As soon as the Saxon finished telling the horrors of his childhood, the Viking bent his head back and roared in laughter. "Really, Cas? Ha ha haaa," He was laughing and slapping his thigh.

Castiel laughed too at the memories. "It sounds funny now, but I was not enjoying it back then."

"Oh, not to worry, I will kiss it then." Dean rubbed circles on the mentioned part and started to place small kisses on it, lips barely touching the skin.

Castiel's nails kept scratching the bottom of the boat, repeating the Viking's name every time he placed a kiss on his naked body. Suddenly the kisses stopped. Dean leaned forward, his lips brushing Castiel's neck.

"Cas, on your hands and knees…" Dean's voice sounded much deeper than usual when he growled into his lover's ear.

* * *

Each rapid thrust of Dean's hips was bringing Castiel closer to his orgasm. Like the last prayer of a dying man, he kept moaning his lover's name.

The Viking grabbed his hips, bringing him even closer. There were sounds of skin slapping against skin, muscles all tensed and glistening with sweat, sinful moans and whimpers, sincere, raw, and wild noises that did not need to be hushed. It was a victorious, triumphant march towards the climax they both needed.

They came simultaneously. Castiel's body violently shook as he found his release, painting the bottom of the boat. The choked moan was stuck in his throat. Dean was panting against his back, his heart pounding heavily against Castiel's body.

As they both calmed down, they lay side by side. Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, resting his head on the Viking's chest. Dean's heart beat peacefully and it caused a small smile on the Saxon's lips.

After some quiet and blissful moments, Castiel raised his head, examining their bodies and twitching his nose. "We should get cleaned up. What a mess we made," he snorted.

Dean yawned and stretched. "Yes, I agree. We should get cleaned up." With these words he attacked Castiel, picking him up.

"Dean?" Castiel asked cautiously when he caught that mischievous glint in the Viking's eyes. "Oh, no no no! Don't you dare!" he yelled when he guessed what the Viking had decided.

"Of course I dare," Dean said with a grin, catching the Saxon's lips in a greedy kiss, hushing him.

Despite Castiel's flailing and muffled protests, Dean jumped into the water with his precious burden. They did not break the kiss even when they sank underwater. The Viking just held him tighter.

As they surfaced, Castiel rested his arms on the edge of the boat and wrapped his legs around the Viking. Dean held his face in his hands and resumed the kissing. Dean stopped for a second and fondly looked into the blue lakes in front of him.

"I love you, Cas," he said, smiling fondly and placing a small peck on the Saxon's lips.

Castiel returned the smile. "I love you too, Dean the Berserk, my Jarl, my friend, and my beloved."

Dean made a contented humming noise and kissed his forehead. He buried his face in Castiel's neck and wrapped his arms around his waist.

Castiel looked around. Only water splashing and rare seagull's screaming could be heard.

He felt happy. This was what his heart desired. He knew that they were safe and no one could ever stand between them again. Their feelings had passed all the tests and obstacles that fate had prepared.

The final, valuable, and deserved prize they received was worth all the difficulties and heartache: the happiness of being together.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is the final chapter. I want to thank everyone, who read this fic. Comments are LOVED, if you leave them you will make me very happy :)

Castiel was very surprised. He did not know what to think. Dean did not have any secrets from him, but this time he stubbornly kept quiet and refused to say where they were going. The Saxon was begging him to say what was happening, but Dean's only words were "It is a surprise." Castiel did not have any other choice and simply gave in.

This time Dean chose to sail by a smaller ship, which could fit in twenty six men. Castiel was looking in the water, his hand splashing in the cold, early morning sea.

"Hey." The voice startled Castiel. He turned around and his blue eyes instantly were met with the glittering emerald lakes. "Still pouting, are you?" Dean chuckled and put a chaste kiss on his lover's lips.

Castiel blushed slightly. Despite the fact that all the Vikings and the whole town knew about their relationship and did not have any problems with it, the Saxon was still shy.

"Trust me Cas, you will like it." Dean sat beside him and wrapped his arm around the smaller man's shoulders.

"I trust you, Dean," Castiel answered with a fond smile.

"Good. Did I tell you that I like your long hair? Don't cut it." The Viking played with the Saxon's dark locks, which were reaching under his shoulder blades. "Good for pulling," he added sexually in his ear, taking a chunk of it with a playful tug.

* * *

Castiel was astonished when he recognized the familiar island. They had come to his homeland, the Isle of Wight.

"Dean…" He stared at the Viking, astonished. "What are we doing here?"

"You will see. Now we will rest a little and then I want to take you to someone. Alright, let's get on the shore." Dean grabbed a barrel of ale. "Ale is always good," he added with a wink.

* * *

After walking for six exhausting hours, Castiel, son of Alric, lord from Isle of Wight, was frozen in place. He was not able to utter a word and could only gaze at the massive stone walls of the manor. It could not be true! Alastair had destroyed his house. It was definitely a dream. An evil, mocking dream. Dean was standing beside him and rest of the Vikings behind them.

"What is this?" he whispered. His voice was tense, almost at the edge of sobbing.

His question went unanswered. The gates of the manor opened and twenty armored men came out. With slow but steady steps, they walked towards the newcomers. They stopped in front of shocked Castiel. The man in the center of the group, who was in his late sixties, looked at the Saxon with a genuine and kind smile.

"Welcome home, my little lord."

Castiel's vision blackened and he swayed. Dean, who was grinning sheepishly by his side, grabbed his arm and held him in place.

"Al… al… fred?" Castiel stuttered and reached out his hand to touch the man before him.

"Yes, it is me," the man nodded. His smile grew even wider.

The Saxon could not control his emotions anymore. He lunged forward and hugged the older man. He buried his face in Alfred's chest and whimpered.

"It's alright. It's alright, my little lord." Alfred was patting his back. He threw a worried glance at the Viking. Dean just shrugged awkwardly.

Finally Castiel lifted his head and stared at the man with a teary face. "But how? How is this possible? My house… you… how… I don't…" he panted heavily, overwhelmed with emotions.

"I was wounded heavily when Alastair attacked us. But I survived," began Alfred. "Last year, Dean the Berserk came to our island and he asked around if anyone had survived the massacre. That's how he found me. He knew how painful it was for you to lose your manor, so he gave me money and asked to find the best builders who could rebuild your house. I knew every single corner of the manor, so I gave them orders on how to build it properly."

Castiel stared at Dean, who fidgeted nervously.

"What? It was not a big deal, really." The Viking squirmed under his gaze and stared at the bug on his hand like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Alfred cleared his throat. "You need to eat and rest." He motioned them towards the gates. "There were a lot of people who wanted to serve you. So, I gave them a job at your manor. Basically, I am the bailiff, but if you want someone else to do the job…." Alfred began, but he was interrupted.

"No!" Castiel shouted. "I do not want anyone else for this position!"

Alfred laughed heartily. "Come, with us. You look awful, milord." Alfred turned around and slowly walked to the gates.

Castiel grabbed Dean's hand, squeezing it tightly. "What would I do without you? How can I thank you?"

"Oh, please, Cas," Dean patted his cheek. "I just wanted to make you happy."

"There are no words that can express my gratitude for what you have done for me. And probably I will never be able to thank you properly."

"Oh, trust me, you can thank me," Dean stated with a mischievous grin.

"Really? How?" The Saxon asked naively and his eyes lit up with a hope.

"Tonight. In bed." Dean waggled his eyebrows.

Castiel's lips stretched into a wide smile and he laughed. "So insatiable," he joked, shaking his head.

"Uh-huh." Dean nodded. "Can't get enough of you. Oh, and one more thing, Cas," Dean grabbed the Saxon's wrist gently. "I cannot stay at a foreign place for a long time. A maximum of seven days. "So…" Dean added awkwardly, "if you want to, you can stay here…" he started, but he was cut off.

"Stay here without you? Never!" Castiel said with a smile. "Seven days is fine with me. But can we come back from time to time?"

Dean sighed in relief. "Of course. Alfred will run the manor while you are with me. We can come here every two months for seven days. What do you say?" Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel's waist as they walked towards the gates.

"Perfect," purred Castiel. He looked over the hills, where the sun was setting. His heart and soul felt light. It seemed that he was blessed by all existing deities.

Castiel stole a quick kiss from his lover before entering the gates. The familiar scents and memories flooded his mind. The Saxon inhaled the scent of wood and freshly cut grass. He closed his eyes and laughed happily.

**The End**  

 


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